Hearts May Get Broken
by TMara
Summary: When Christine realizes who she really loves, Erik is gone. Is it too late, or is there still a chance for their love?
1. Prologue

Prologue

Antoinette Giry sighed, relieved. Tomorrow was the great day. Tomorrow finally everything that had gone wrong all those years ago would be put right again. Tomorrow the two lovers that had been separated for so long would finally exchange their vows and be united in matrimony.

How many times over the past five years had she asked herself if she had done the right thing the night of the fire at the Opera Populaire by showing the young Vicomte the way to the Phantom's – Erik's – lair. Why had she done it? She had known that Erik would never hurt her surrogate daughter, for he loved Christine. Why then had she not left the two of them alone to sort things out? They had lost five years because of her. Because she had sent the intruder, whose presence had completely changed the dynamics of the situation. Without his interference they might have found happiness that long-ago night. Instead they had had to suffer heartbreak and endure a long separation.

But would they have been able to build a relationship back then? Mme. Giry was not sure. Christine had been so young then, barely seventeen, she had not really been able to cope with the fact that two men were rivaling for her attention. In Mme. Giry's opinion, five years ago Christine had not been ready yet to accept her love for Erik and to act on it. Christine needed this experience, she thought. She needed to see Erik at his most vulnerable and at his most noble, sacrificing his own happiness for her sake, in order to understand her own heart. And Erik, he needed to experience tenderness and the intimacy of a kiss in order to fully understand love.

Of course that was not the reason why she had sent the Vicomte their way. She had been worried. Worried that Erik would not be able to accept Christine's decision. For back then, Mme. Giry had not been too certain which of her two suitors Christine truly loved. She had supported Erik's courtship but had secretly feared that Christine's heart belonged to Raoul de Chagny.

She had to admit to herself, though, that she had had doubts about the wisdom of her decision only moments after leaving the Vicomte. After all, Erik had been under extreme emotional stress that night, what with Christine unmasking him in public, and she had known his temper. Her thoughts returned to the night of the fire….


	2. Burning Opera

Chapter 1 – Burning Opera

The Opera Populaire was going down in flames. Somehow the criminal that the Vicomte de Chagny had tried to capture during the performance with help from the authorities had not only managed to get away, but had set the house on fire in the process as well. He had crashed the huge chandelier onto the stage to create a diversion, and in the ensuing chaos had escaped together with the young diva Christine Daaé.

While the last patrons and performers were still running from the burning building, tending to injured friends or colleagues or simply standing in the way of the firemen, Mme. Giry, the ballet mistress, was heading towards a small house in one of the suburbs. She was in a hurry. She hoped – prayed – that at least one of her charges would show up at her home tonight. If so, she had to be there to help them. She was worried sick about all her loved ones. "Please, God, protect them all, keep them safe, keep them alive," she murmured, while walking briskly. "If something bad happened to either of them because of my interference…"

She had no idea where her daughter Meg was at the moment. She had last seen her right after the chandelier had come down and Erik had disappeared with Christine. She had run into the Vicomte then and he had somehow convinced her to show him the way to Erik's home, his lair. Meg had offered to come with them, but Mme. Giry had told her to stay behind and assist with the evacuation of the building. She herself had pretty soon regretted her decision to help the Vicomte find his rival and had abandoned the young patron at the entrance to the cellars, claiming that she did not dare go any further. When she had returned to the stage level, Meg had disappeared. Somebody suggested she might be leading a group of gendarmes to the Opera Ghost's hiding place. But nobody knew for sure where she had gone.

Mme. Giry hastened along her way. It was not Meg that she was worried about most. Meg knew the Opera Populaire well. If she was still in the building, she would probably be able to find a safe way out. She was level-headed and would not get herself into a dangerous situation, and thanks to her well-trained dancer's body she would be able to escape the fire. Yes, there was a certain risk, but Mme. Giry was confident that at least Meg would get out of the roaring inferno unharmed.

She was not so sure about her other two charges, her surrogate daughter, the young diva Christine Daaé and her … Mme. Giry pondered for a moment what exactly Erik was to her: Friend? Protégé? Protector? He was all of that, but in a way he was also the younger brother she had never had.

Erik. She would never forget the day when she had first seen him, malnourished, emaciated, beaten, abused by a gipsy brute, forced to reveal his disfigured face to cheering audiences. She had pitied him then and had wanted to help him. By coincidence, that very same day the boy had killed his tormentor and she had not hesitated for a moment to help him hide from the authorities. She had brought him to the Opera Populaire where he had made a home for himself in the cellars. Antoinette Giry remembered those days clearly. Even though she had seen the boy kill a full-grown man she had never been afraid of Erik. She had made sure he had everything he needed and they had become quite close, almost like real siblings.

Antoinette smiled at the memory of her and Erik playing hide-and-seek in the corridors of the Opera Populaire all those years ago. He was a few years her junior, therefore he had only been in his teens when she met Jules Giry and started dating him. Her foster brother had felt neglected then, and one day, when she went down to the cellars to pay Erik a visit, he was gone. He left her a note saying that he understood she had somebody more important in her life now. He did not want to make her divide her free time between him and her young man and he was therefore leaving. He wished her all the best.

That had been all. Not one word about where he was going, no promise that he would write. Erik had completely vanished from her life then. She had not heard from him in over eight years. At first she had missed her foster brother terribly, but soon she had accepted his disappearance and concentrated on the new people in her life. She and Jules had married, their daughter Meg had been born and Antoinette had not had time to wonder about Erik's whereabouts. When she did remember him, she always hoped that he was well, though, and that one day he would come home.

For a few years Antoinette had been happy with her husband and daughter, then Jules Giry was involved in an accident and left her widowed at a fairly young age. Meg had been barely more than six years old at that time. It had taken her a few months to get everything settled, to find the job as ballet mistress so that she could support herself and Meg, and to have something to do that would take her mind off her loss. She was still fighting to get her life back on track when one morning she found a little note on her desk. "My condolences. If you need help, I am back. E."

There had been no doubt in her mind about who had written that note. She knew that handwriting. Her foster brother was home! Right at a time when she needed help. She felt a bit guilty for not having thought of him more often, but that day she anxiously waited for rehearsals to be over and for her daughter Meg to fall asleep so that she could venture down to the cellars of the Opera to meet Erik again.

She had collapsed into his arms and cried and cried. He, her dear, caring brother had comforted her and promised that he would help her and her daughter now like she had helped him when he had escaped from the gypsies. Only when she had calmed down a bit and looked at him closer had she realized how much he had changed. When she had last seen him he had been a lanky teenager, now he was a young man in his mid-twenties. He had grown and matured, but that was to be expected. What she was not prepared for was the haunted look in his expressive eyes, though. She shuddered. His eyes spoke of pain and suffering. She put her arm around his shoulder, as she had done so often when they had been children and asked him where he had been, what had made him come home now. Erik only shook his head. "Don't ask ever again, Antoinette," he said. "There are horrors in my past that I will probably never be able to put behind me. Terrible things have happened to me and I have done terrible things, too. But I am home now."

From that day on Erik had been there for her like a real brother. He had not only been a shoulder to cry on, he had supported her financially, helped her draft letters to authorities and given her advice in many areas. But despite his very active support she had noticed that her foster brother was far from well. He was suffering from nightmares again, more often and more violent than those after his escape from the gypsies. As a consequence, he never got enough sleep. As long as she needed him, he seemed to pull himself together for her sake, but once she began to appreciate life again, Erik more and more gave in to depression. Not only did he not sleep much anymore, he did not eat regularly either. Whenever she visited him, she found him brooding. He started to lose weight and she was really worried about him.

Around the same time a new student was admitted to the ballet dormitories, a seven-year-old orphaned girl, the daughter of a fairly well-known musician. Christine was only a few months older than her own daughter Meg, and the girl's large, sad eyes won Mme. Giry's heart immediately. She vowed to protect the little orphan and to try and be a mother to her.

Christine was devastated, though. She had loved her father, the Swedish violinist Gustave Daaé, very much. He had been the single most important person in her life. The only important person. But now he was gone. It was as if for her the world had come to an end. She could not imagine life without her dear papa, she did not even want to try. She felt as if he had betrayed her, abandoned her, somehow failed her. Little Christine spent hours, sometimes whole days, in the little chapel, where she lit candles for her father and talked to him. She barely ate and cried herself to sleep every night.

Mme. Giry soon understood that she had a second case of severe depression at her hands, when she had not even been able to deal with the first one yet. She worried about both, her brother Erik and her new surrogate daughter Christine, without being able to help either. Both her charges got thinner and paler every week, and nothing she tried to shake them out of their lethargy seemed to have any effect. She was preparing herself for the worst. She knew that both were reaching critical stages and that chances were high she would lose either one, probably both.

Then one day the miracle had happened. Somehow these two lost souls had found each other. The heart-breaking sobs of the child had spoken to the lonely man's heart. Her love for music and her desire to meet the "Angel of Music" that her father had promised to send to her once he'd be in heaven had suddenly opened new perspectives to him. By taking over the identity of this "Angel of Music" he would be able to care for her, to teach her. His life would have a purpose after all.

Christine, on the other hand, was overjoyed that her dear papa had not forgotten her, that he had sent her the promised angel after all. Under his guidance she not only studied music, he also soon became her most trusted friend with whom she discussed everything. Mme. Giry had been a bit concerned at first. She knew that Erik never showed himself to the girl, but she also knew that Christine would sooner or later want to see her friend. How would she react then? But when Mme. Giry saw how both her protégés suddenly regained interest in life and radiated happiness, she had been happy for them and decided not to worry about what might or might not happen one day.

As the years passed, the friendship between Erik and Christine had deepened and once the child had grown into a beautiful young woman, Antoinette Giry was not too surprised when Erik confessed he had fallen in love with his student. Since she had also noticed that Christine pretty much ignored all the young men, none of which could compare to her "Angel", she started to dream how wonderful it might be if these two hearts found a way to each other. She urged Erik to tell Christine the truth about himself. She was confident that the young woman would be able to forgive the angel-charade. Christine was growing up, she was not the naïve child anymore. She was beginning to suspect – to hope – that her angel might be a real person, a man she could love.

Erik had been hesitant to reveal himself to Christine. While he, too, hoped that Christine might forgive him for passing himself off as the Angel of Music for so long, he feared she might find his hideous face scary or even revolting. So he started sending Christine flowers – red roses, the flowers of love – and Mme. Giry witnessed more than once how much Christine cherished those simple gifts from her angel.

Then things had gone out of control. Erik had started playing tricks on the managers of the Opera Populaire and telling them how to run the theater. His methods of making them follow his orders did not always meet with Mme. Giry's approval, but she had to admit that the quality of the performances increased tremendously as a consequence.

Once Christine's voice training was complete, Erik wanted to get rid of the ageing diva Carlotta and see his beloved student promoted to that position. He finally succeeded and Christine was given the role of Elissa in Chalumeau's "Hannibal". She debuted to thunderous applause. After the performance Erik finally told Christine the truth and showed her his home. He had not intended to show Christine his face, but she had seen it nevertheless. Since at the same time the young, handsome new patron Raoul de Chagny recognized Christine as his childhood sweetheart and started to court her, Erik had been frustrated and jealous. He feared that the young Vicomte's pretty face might mean more to his Christine than their long friendship.

Christine had been overwhelmed. Too much was happening at the same time and she was not able to deal with all the new emotions. She suddenly was a diva, her angel was no angel but a hideously disfigured man about twice her age, her childhood sweetheart, whom she had not seen in years, was back in her life, and two men were competing for her affection. But Erik's nerves were frayed as well. When the managers ignored his orders and cast Carlotta as the Countess in the new production of "Il Muto", he overreacted terribly, interrupted the performance and somehow caused Carlotta to croak. That he killed the bothersome stagehand Buquet in self-defense that same night when the latter was stalking him in the rafters, did not help either.

Erik kept to himself after that disastrous night, and the Vicomte had seen his chance. Soon he and Christine became engaged. Christine seemed happy with him and Mme. Giry had to give up on her dream of Christine and Erik becoming a couple. Truth be told, after the recent events she was not so sure anymore that Erik would be a good choice for Christine. At the New Year's Masquerade Erik and Christine had seen each other again, and the way they had been looking at each other had made Mme. Giry wonder once again, who it was that Christine really loved. But even she had to admit that Erik's treatment of the managers was going way too far. He seemed to have lost all perspective.

The Vicomte was getting just as jealous. Her attempt to make him understand Erik's fate by telling him of his childhood in the gipsy camp had not had the desired effect. He had planned to ambush Erik during the opening night of Erik's own opera "Don Juan Triumphant" and he had somehow convinced Christine to act as bait. When the young woman agreed, Mme. Giry finally accepted that Christine's heart had chosen Raoul over Erik.

Of course Mme. Giry had warned her foster brother of the ambush. Despite everything she still cared for Erik. She had hoped that he would stay away, hidden in his lair in the middle of the subterranean lake. But that love-sick man had found a way to take center stage by somehow eliminating the tenor Piangi. He had courted Christine on stage once more, playing Don Juan to her Aminta, offering her his heart and begging for hers in return.

Christine had seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then she had ripped his mask off, exposing his pitiful face to the audience. The gendarmes had only then realized who the performer on stage truly was and had aimed at him, but Erik had crashed the chandelier for a diversion, thus setting the building on fire, and had escaped with Christine.

That was the last she had seen of the two. She suspected that Erik was taking Christine to his lair. But would the two be safe there? The house was brimming with gendarmes, and an angry mob was forming to hunt down the Opera Ghost and his prey. What if either group found them? What would they do to Erik? And Christine? Would she be safe if they found her with him? What about the Vicomte, whom she herself had basically sent after the two? Why on earth had she done that? What had she hoped to achieve by sending the young nobleman down to Erik's lair? It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but she was not so sure anymore. After all, the two men were rivals and both were rather jealous. What if it came to a showdown between them and Christine had to watch them kill each other? She was certain that Christine would never be able to forgive Erik if he killed her fiancé, but she had a feeling that Christine would not take it well either if her suitor killed Erik. If he killed, period. No matter who.

Why, oh why had she shown the Vicomte the way then? After all, she knew that Erik loved Christine and would never hurt her, not even after her betrayal. He would not force her into his bed either. Christine was safe with Erik. But Mme. Giry had had a feeling that he would not let Christne go. Ever. He would treat her well, but would not allow her to return to her fiancé and live the life she had chosen for herself. She had hoped that the Vicomte would somehow be able to pry Christine away from Erik. To free her.

The more she thought about it, the more she doubted she had done the right thing. A confrontation between the two men would not resolve anything and probably just make things worse. What if Erik was delayed by Raoul and he and Christine could not escape the mob and the gendarmes in time? What if either Erik or Christine were hurt? If Erik was caught?

She began praying again. "Please God," she sobbed. "Let them both get away unharmed. Keep them safe. I know they will both be traumatized and under emotional stress, but as long as they survive, their hearts and minds can heal. Erik will have to accept that Christine does not return his feelings and Christine will have to understand that he did all these things because he is heart-broken. Please, let Erik come to my house tonight. If he is still with Christine, let both find a safe haven at my home, if he has somehow let her go, let at least one of them come home, so that I may know what has happened. The uncertainty about their fate is killing me."


	3. Broken

Chapter 2 – Broken

Mme. Giry arrived at her house a few moments later. She knew at once that nobody else was there, since the house was completely dark. She sighed. What took them so long? Meg of course could not be here yet, since her daughter had still been around the burning opera house when she had left, but where were Erik and Christine? She had been so certain that Erik would come to her house, since with the fire, the gendarmes and the mob, his lair would hardly be safe.

Had he been detained? Had something happened to them? Had he been caught? She shivered at the thought of her foster brother behind bars. He would not survive imprisonment, she thought. Not again. He had been through so much already, and if she was right and Christine could not return his feelings, then his will to live would be almost non-existent even without being thrown into a prison cell.

She stopped resolutely. Worrying would not help anybody. She had to think straight and concentrate on the situation at hand. Maybe Erik had gone to his lair first to pack a few things or pick up a few bags? And surely Christine would slow him down, especially since she was not coming with him willingly. There was a chance, slim as it might be, that her two protégés were all right and would arrive a bit later. Meg would hopefully come home soon as well. Since it was cold outside, they would probably all need a warm room, some hot tea and maybe a hot bath to get warm again. Since she had not anticipated to go to the house tonight, there was no food, but some tea and sugar was still there from their last stay here.

Mme. Giry started to make a fire in the living room and to boil water in a kettle. She was barely done, when Meg showed up. She was weary, her pants were wet as if she had waded through water and she carried one of Erik's masks in her hand. Mme. Giry gasped. How had Meg gotten that mask? Was Erik caught? Injured? Dead? What about Christine?

"Meg!" she screamed, relieved that at least her daughter was safe, but shaken to the core with fear of what might have happened to Erik and Christine. "Where did you get that mask? Is he…?" she could not finish the sentence. "Christine?" Her voice failed her and she was not able to form a coherent question.

Meg shook her head. "I do not know where she is," she said wearily. "Or the Phantom for that matter. We did find his hiding place, but it was deserted. They must have left before we arrived. I have no idea where he took her." Meg's voice shook with worry. Christine was her closest friend. The two young ladies were almost like sisters. "Or what he will do to her," she added resignedly.

Mme. Giry closed her eyes. Thank heaven, they had not been caught, neither the mob nor the gendarmes had found them . There was still a chance that they were fine, that she soon would either see them or get a message from them, for she could somehow not imagine Erik not giving her news about his whereabouts. After he had come back to the opera ten years ago and learned how hurt she had been because he had not stayed in touch during his travels, he had promised not to do this ever again.

"He would not hurt her, Meg," she said quietly. "She is in no danger as long as she is under his protection." Meg stared at her mother in shock. "What do you mean she is in no danger?" she yelled. "He only abducted her from the stage! And don't give me that 'he loves her, he won't hurt her'-speech. I am fairly certain, he will not kill her or torture her, considering how smitten with her he was during that seductive duet, but what if…" she blushed deeply. "If he forces her?"

Mme. Giry gave her a stern look. "He won't do any such thing," she said with the deepest conviction. Meg glared at her. "I know you have a soft spot for this psychopath," she hissed. "You supported his relationship with Christine, did you not? How could you? This is the result now!" she began to sob angrily.

Mme. Giry realized that her own nerves were not the only ones that were frayed. Meg was pretty shaken as well. She comfortingly put an arm around her daughter's shoulders. "Meg, get into dry clothes and have some hot tea," she murmured. "You need to calm down. I am worried, too," she admitted, "but not about this. Erik will not touch Christine against her will and he will protect her with his very life." Meg looked up. "Erik?" she asked hesitantly. "So you do know him? I always suspected you did!"

Mme. Giry nodded. "Yes, I do know him, know him probably better than anybody else on this world does – with the possible exception of Christine," she added with a smile. "And right now I am worried sick about him." Meg looked at her in shock. Her mother was worried about the madman who had set the Opera Populaire on fire and abducted her surrogate sister? "Tell me, you are joking," she whispered, a terrified look in her beautiful eyes.

Mme. Giry faced her daughter. "I am dead serious," she said. "Erik and I were children together. He is like a brother to me." Meg gasped. "A brother? The Phantom?" Somehow the concepts of brother and phantom seemed to contradict one another. Her mother nodded. "Maybe I should have told you the truth long ago, and I know I will have to now, but not tonight. Go to bed, Meg. Get warm again. I don' want you to get ill."

Meg slowly stood and walked towards the staircase that lead to the bedrooms on the upper floor. "Are you not going to bed as well, mother?" she asked. The ballet mistress shook her head. "Not yet," she uttered. "I will wait a bit longer." Meg stared at her. "Wait?" she asked. "For him?"

"I hope he will either stop by or somehow find a way to give me a message," Mme. Giry admitted. "And if he needs help…" Meg gave her a doubtful look. She did not understand how her mother could possibly want to help the man who had done so much damage, hurt so many people and abducted their dear Christine, but she also knew that her mother did not want to discuss the issue any longer. It would not make a difference anyway, her mother's mind was set and nothing would change it. Without another word she turned and went up to her room.

Xxxx

Mme. Giry sat in the living room, waiting, growing more worried by the minute. What took Erik so long? Had she been wrong to assume he would come here? Was there another place he could go to? Or had he been caught after all? Maybe somebody in the streets had recognized him and attacked him? Pictures of Erik lying dying in a corner, his blood seeping out of multiple deep wounds began to haunt her thoughts, when she heard the key in the front door turn slowly. A smile spread across her face as she sighed in relief.

"Erik," she whispered, running to meet her foster brother at the door. "Antoinette," she shivered at the hollow, spent sound of his voice. "Come in, Erik," she encouraged him. "Get warm. There is a fire in the living room, and I have some water boiling,…" she inhaled in shock as she took a closer look at Erik. His clothes were just as wet and filthy as Meg's had been, he was without his mask and wig, his shoulders were stooping and his eyes… she didn't think she had ever seen eyes that held such a pained, broken look as his. And he was alone.

"Christine," she asked, suddenly worried. Why was she not with Erik? Where was she? Had they been separated during their escape? Tears seemed to well in Erik's eyes and he closed them as if to shut out the hurt. "Gone," he whispered, his voice expressionless. "With that boy." His whole body shook with the effort not to scream his pain out for the entire world to hear.

Mme. Giry gasped. What had happened? Had Erik let her go or had the Vicomte somehow forced Erik to release her? Deep down she thought she should be happy for Christine that she now was free to pursue the life she had chosen for herself, but at the view of the broken man in front of her, she could feel nothing but compassion for him, be sorry for his plight.

"Oh Erik," she whispered comfortingly, putting an arm around his shoulder. "I am sorry." She tried to gently lead him into the living room. "Come in, sit down and tell me what happened," she said. "But first you need to get warm. I think there are some clothes of my husband around somewhere, I'll get you those. You'd better take a hot bath as well and I'll make some tea."

Erik shook his head. "I can't," he said, his voice still monotonous, expressionless. "They will come for me soon, Antoinette, I must go." Mme. Giry shook his arm to rise him from his lethargy. "Nonsense, Erik," she said. "I am sure the Vicomte will drop charges against you, now that he has Christine, you will be safe."

Erik looked at her, not seeming to see her, almost looking through her. "I threatened him," he whispered. "Forced her to make a choice, to stay with me or see him die." Mme. Giry was appalled. "You did what?" Her voice trailed. "Asked her to choose," Erik's expressionless, hollow voice droned on. "I thought I could keep her that way," he continued, staring straight ahead, as if in trance, reliving the horrible moments of the confrontation between him, Christine and her fiancé. Seeing him like that broke Mme Giry's heart, even though his confession troubled her deeply. Apparently he had put Christine under extreme emotional stress and bodily assaulted a nobleman. She began to worry about Christine's state of mind, while desperately thinking about a way to help Erik.

"She said she'd stay with me to save his life," Erik went on. "She even kissed me, to prove she meant it." A shiver ran through his body as he remembered Christine's kisses, her lips on his, her hand caressing his deformed cheek. He had known then that he could not make her stay. If she was that desperate to save the Vicomte's life that she would willingly kiss a hideous freak like himself… "I sent them away then," he finished.

Mme. Giry hugged him. She was deeply moved. She had not thought he had it in him, but he had obviously found the strength to let Christine go. He had sent the woman that he loved with all his heart away with his rival. Doing so had caused him severe pain and heart-break, but his love for her had been strong enough to put her needs first. "My poor Erik," she whispered, rocking him like a small child and rubbing his back for comfort.

"You did the right thing," she murmured. Erik did not react to her attempts to comfort him. "I must go, Antoinette," he finally said. "They will hunt me for assault on the Vicomte." Mme. Giry knew he was right. He would have to get out of Paris as soon as possible, probably out of the country as well. "Get changed first," she said. "Your clothes are wet, you will catch a cold. Also, they know what you are wearing, those clothes can give you away." He nodded in agreement. "Good, draw yourself a hot bath, I'll get you my late husband's clothes in the meantime," she said. "If you want to get over the border soon, you need to be strong, not fighting a fever."

Xxxx

Half an hour later Erik had taken a quick bath, changed into warmer, though ill-fitting clothes that had belonged to the late Jules Giry and drunk a mug of hot tea. Mme. Giry handed him the mask Meg had brought home. "I thought you might need that as well," she said, thanking God that Meg had had the good sense of picking up the spare mask in the lair.

"Thank you," Erik muttered, turning to the door. "Wait," he stopped at her call. "What is it, Antoinette?" he asked, ready to leave. "Where are you going, Erik?" Her question caught him by surprise. He had not thought about that yet. "I do not know," he confessed. "I have not had time to decide yet. I guess over the border and then… I don't know." It did not really matter. Life would be empty and meaningless no matter where he went. He would be lonely everywhere, without his Christine. Knowing that he had lost her forever, that he would never be able to see her again, not after what he had put her through tonight.

Mme. Giry saw the pain in his eyes and thought that what he needed most now would be a family to comfort him, to give him love and help him to deal with the terrible blow his loving heart had received. Unfortunately, he did not have this luxury. He was on the run, he would not be safe until he was out of the country, and even then, he might have to continue on for quite a while. He would have to live a hard life for the next couple of weeks, and a lonely life for the rest of his days.

"Will you write?" she asked. It would be good if he did so. For both their sakes. She would be calmer if she knew he was safe and maybe the knowledge that he had somebody who cared would sooth his pain and help him deal with Christine's inability to return his feelings. Erik shook his head. "I cannot," he said, his voice sounding a bit more animated for the first time since he had arrived at the little house. "I cannot involve you in this, Antoinette," he explained. "You and your daughter need to be able to swear that you do not know where I am." The ballet mistress smiled. She was moved. Despite his rash temper and his violent tendencies, Erik had a heart of gold. Her foster brother was trying to keep her and Meg safe.

"I will still be waiting," she murmured. "One day all this will be forgotten and it will be safe for you to write." Erik looked at her, doubt in his eyes. "Not anytime soon," he said. "Antoinette, I may not be able to come home again this time. Not ever." She understood. The Vicomte had already been full of jealous hatred for his rival before tonight's events. Having been threatened by Erik certainly would not make him willing to sweep the whole affair under a rug. On the contrary. The burning opera house would serve as yet another argument to justify the wealthy patron's desire to capture the person responsible for the damage and bring him to justice. Considering the wealth and the influence of the de Chagny family, Erik had made a formidable enemy tonight.

This is all my fault, she thought by herself. Things would not have escalated like that if I had not shown the Vicomte the way. How could I do this? What was I thinking? She looked at Erik. Did he know what she had done? Had he guessed who had sent his rival down? If not, should she tell him? She preferred honesty, but would Erik be strong enough to deal with yet another blow, learning that his trusted foster sister had betrayed him as well? No, she could not tell him, not now anyway. One day, when she would see him again she would tell him everything. For she would see him again, she refused to believe that this was a good-bye for life.

"May God keep you safe, Erik," she finally said, hugging her foster brother again. "And may he help you overcome the hurt and pain that you are feeling right now. I will pray for you, and if you need anything," she hesitated. "I will always be there for you, Erik. When I helped you escape from the gypsies, you sort of became my younger brother." She blushed, wondering how Erik would take this revelation. "You will always have a sister in me. Always."

A faint smile played across Erik's pale features. "Thank you, Antoinette," he said. "I am honored that you consider me your brother." He hesitated, then continued. "There is something else…" he stopped, as if unsure whether or not to continue. "What is it, Erik, tell me," she urged him gently. "Christine," he whispered, wincing at the fresh pain this beloved name caused him. "When you see her,.." he paused again. "You want me to give her a message?" Mme. Giry guessed. Erik nodded. "Will you tell her that I am sorry?" he stammered. "And if she could find it in her heart to forgive me…"

Mme. Giry smiled at him. "I will tell her that," she promised. "I do think she will forgive you, Erik," she added after a moment's pause. "Maybe not at once, but she will one day forgive you." She felt confident making this promise. Christine was a warm, sensitive person. Once she understood how much her inability to love him had hurt Erik, she would start feeling compassion for her "angel", and from that it would only be one step to forgiveness.

Erik did not seem to share her confidence. "I must go now," he finally said. Mme. Giry nodded. "Go then, Erik, and may God watch over you," she whispered.


	4. Fever

Chapter 3 – Fever

Mme. Giry barely slept that night. She could not get Erik out of her mind, the way he had looked, the way he had sounded. Losing Christine had been a terrible blow for him. Ever since he had first laid eyes on her ten years ago, Christine had had a positive influence on Erik. If anybody could make him smile, it was her. If anything could make him happy it was caring for her, helping her, being there for her. Christine had been the sunshine in Erik's life, the main purpose of his continued existence ever since he had decided to become the angel of music for her. Mme. Giry suspected that Erik had already loved Christine long before she had grown into the woman he found desirable. His heart would probably have chosen Christine even if she had been plain.

Unfortunately, Christine's feelings for Erik had not been quite as strong. While Mme. Giry had no doubts that Christine did care for Erik in her own way, the young woman had obviously fallen in love with her childhood friend. It was a pity, Mme. Giry thought, but then, it was Christine's life. The young woman certainly had the right to decide who she wanted to spend this life with, and she had chosen the young Vicomte.

Her thoughts returned to what little Erik had told her about the confrontation between him and Christine's fiancé. He must have been desperate. He had tried to force Christine to love him by threatening to kill the young nobleman if she did not stay with him. Poor Erik! Didn't he know that a person's heart could not be told whom it should love? He seemed to understand that now, but he had to put Christine through such an ordeal first before he accepted that her heart did not belong to him.

Poor Christine! The past months must already have been hard on her, with her "angel" and her childhood sweetheart competing for her affection . Mme. Giry was certain that the two men's rivalry must have hurt the young woman who cared for both of them. They were both so jealous, and both full of hatred. The Vicomte had done his best to have Erik captured, if not killed, during last night's performance and from what Erik had told her, he had tried the same with the young man later. Raoul had forced Christine to act as bait for Erik, and Erik had forced her to give up on her love for her fiancé to save the latter's life. Mme. Giry had a feeling that both men had hurt Christine terribly, even though both loved her.

How had last night's events affected Christine? She was so sensitive, and still so young and inexperienced. Would she be able to put the horrors of this night behind her? Would the actions taken by her two competing suitors leave scars on her psyche? The more Mme. Giry thought about it, the more worried she became about the young woman. As badly shaken as Erik was at the moment, he was a man and he was used to rejection. It would take time, but she was confident that he would be able to accept the situation and to carry on. But what about Christine? Mme. Giry finally fell asleep from exhaustion, only to fight nightmares in which Christine and her two suitors all three hurt themselves and each other badly in the name of love.

Xxxx

When Meg finally got up the next morning, she found her mother had already been to the nearby baker's shop and got some fresh croissants for breakfast. While she herself felt well rested, her mother seemed nervous, though, deeply worried.

"No news about Christine, I take it?" she asked, trying to hide her own concern for her friend's well-being. Her mother glanced at her briefly, interrupting her breakfast preparations and stated flatly, "Christine is with the Vicomte."

Meg's jaw dropped. "What? How? Did the Phan… Erik tell you that?" Mme. Giry nodded. "He said he let her go with the Vicomte. It broke his heart," she added. "Never have I seen anybody as deeply hurt as him." Meg stared at her. "How can you feel sorry for somebody like him?" she asked her mother, astounded.

"He is not a bad person," Mme. Giry explained. "Though I know he has done some bad things. He is a troubled soul, who has known very little kindness in his life." Then she began to tell her daughter everything she knew about Erik. How he had been abused by the gypsies at a very tender age, how she had helped him escape, how he left when she met Meg's father and returned a couple of years later, severely depressed, how meeting the equally depressed Christine had given his life new meaning, and how his feelings for Christine had turned into love.

Meg was moved. She began to understand why her mother thought of the Phantom – Erik – like a brother and why Christine had cared so deeply about her angel. She now realized how much Christine meant to the disfigured man, and began to feel compassion for him, even though she was of the opinion that Christine should be allowed to freely choose who she wanted to spend her life with.

"He knows that now, too," Mme. Giry whispered. "In the end he let her go, so that she can have the life she wants. He loves her that much." Meg nodded. She had no experience with love yet, but it made her sad that such a deep love as Erik obviously felt for her surrogate sister could not be returned.

"What now?" asked Meg, once her mother had finished her story. "Where did he go? What do we do now?" Mme. Giry shook her head. "I do not know where he is. He wouldn't tell me, won't write either. He wants us to be able to swear that we do not know where he is. He stays away to protect us and keep us safe." Meg smiled. Her mother was right. This Erik definitely had his good side. If he had been treated kindly and with love from the start, he probably would have been a caring individual.

"We have to get in touch with Christine, though," Mme. Giry continued. "Make sure, she is all right. I am not quite certain if we can go to the de Chagny mansion and ask to see her. After all, officially nobody has informed us of her whereabouts, but maybe I can go and ask to speak to the Vicomte under the pretext that I want to learn if he has any news about Christine." Meg nodded. "We can do that." She smiled. "Let me do that. If I get to see her, she will probably talk to me more freely than she would to you. At least I hope I will be allowed to see her… "

Mme. Giry sighed. She had feared the same. The Vicomte knew that there was a certain connection between her and Erik. After all, she had shown him the way to Erik's lair. What if he feared she was acting on his rival's instructions, somehow trying to get Christine under the Phantom's influence again? She shook her head. No, if he voiced such a suspicion she would have to point out that she was on his side, had betrayed the Phantom's trust by telling him where he could find the Phantom and Christine.

Xxxx

After breakfast Meg set out to try her luck and see if she would be allowed to talk to Christine. Once she reached the large de Chagny-mansion, she asked to see the Vicomte. At first the condescending butler did not want to admit her, but once she said it was important and to tell the Vicomte that her name was Meg Giry, the man's attitude changed and she was immediately lead into a small parlor, where Raoul joined her a few minutes later.

"Mlle. Giry!" the rather pale young nobleman greeted her. "I assume you come to see Christine?" Meg nodded. "I wanted to ask if you had found her," she explained. "We didn't hear from her last night, so we thought maybe you have some news…"

The Vicomte sneezed. He obviously had caught a cold the previous night. "Excuse me," he apologized. "I would have sent for your mother if I had known where to find her," he began to explain. Meg frowned. It was true that the Vicomte did not have their current address, but Christine knew about the house. Surely she would have told him? "Christine knows our address," she stated calmly.

"'Oh, I have no doubt about it," the Vicomte retorted. "It is just that Christine…" He paused, his eyes suddenly full of worry. "She collapsed last night," he finally mumbled. "She is running a high fever. At first we thought she had caught a cold as well, but the doctor has informed me that it is obviously more serious." Meg paled visibly. "How is she?" she asked. The Vicomte shook his head. "I wish I could tell you. Apparently she has been under a lot of stress and the fever is the reaction to it." He bit his lip. "That blasted demon," he murmured under his breath, "that is his doing." Meg had to admit that yesterday she would have agreed with him. Today, though, after her conversation with her mother, she had come to the conclusion that both men, Erik and Raoul alike, had put a lot of pressure on Christine and that her current illness was therefore both their fault.

"Both love her," she thought. "Neither would knowingly, willingly hurt her, and yet, if she does not survive this fever, they will have killed her." It dawned on her that love was more than a romantic infatuation. It could be strong and powerful and passionate, exhilarating, but also dangerous.

"May I see her?" she finally asked. The Vicomte gave her an uncertain look. "I had hoped your mother would be able and willing to sit with Christine," he said uneasily. Christine was delirious and he was not sure this young lady could handle the sight of her raving friend. "I know that your mother has raised Christine and that she thinks of Christine like another daughter. I hoped that maybe her surrogate mother's presence…" Meg nodded, she understood. "I will go and get her," she promised.

Xxxx

An hour later Mme. Giry arrived at the de Chagny mansion, her features stiff and unreadable. When Meg had told her about Christine's illness, she had almost collapsed herself. "This is your fault as well," she had thought. "That confrontation between the two men, having to watch Erik threaten her beloved fiancé, fearing for her boy's life, sacrificing her own happiness with Raoul to keep him alive, accepting a life at the side of the man who was about to kill her lover, that all must have been too much for her. I meant well, when I sent the Vicomte after them, but it seems I have hurt them both, my foster brother and my surrogate daughter."

The whole way to the de Chagny-mansion she was praying like she had never prayed before, asking God to punish her, not Christine, for her interference. To let Christine live and make a full recovery, so that she could finally put the past behind and start a new life with the man she loved.

Once she arrived at the mansion, she was immediately shown to the guest room which had been assigned to Christine. She sat down next to the bed and took Christine's burning hot hand in her own. Christine looked terrible. Her face was deadly pale except for her cheeks which were an unhealthy, feverish red. Her eyes were open, yet it was clear that she did not recognize the ballet mistress. Mme. Giry knew at once that the young woman's illness was a serious one. She mentally prepared herself for a long stay at the de Chagny mansion, for she would not leave Christine until she was out of danger.

Xxxx

Mme. Giry barely left Christine's bed for the next few days, cooling the burning forehead and temples with a wet cloth, washing the fever sweat off her body, trying to make her drink some water, holding her hand, soothing her when she became delirious.

Listening to the young woman's delirious outbreaks gave Mme. Giry a good idea of the psychological trauma her two suitors had put her through. In her fever-induced dreams the young woman called out to both men, conjuring Raoul and her Angel not to hurt each other, begging first one and then the other to forgive her.

Mme. Giry was worried sick, when she relived Christine's fears and pain with her by listening to her ravings. One moment Christine was begging Raoul not to use her as bait to catch her angel, to leave him alone and let him go, the next moment she was screaming at her angel not to harm her fiancé, not to force her to stay with him. Then she whimpered "forgive me, oh, please forgive me!" Mme. Giry was not quite sure whom she asked to forgive her. Raoul for having promised to stay with Erik? Erik for having acted as bait?

The Vicomte was not allowed into the sickroom. Thanks to his prolonged stay in the cold water of the subterranean lake he had caught a severe cold. Therefore the doctor was concerned that Christine might catch his cold on top of whatever type of nervous fever she had contracted. As it was, he was worried enough about the young woman without such an additional complication.

Given Christine's fever dreams, Mme. Giry was glad Raoul was not allowed to see her. She had a feeling that in her current condition Christine was not able to handle any reminder of the ordeal she had been through. That, in her opinion included the Vicomte. Even though Christine loved the man and had been willing to sacrifice her own happiness in order to save his life, he had hurt her just as badly as Erik by forcing her to betray her beloved teacher, her angel.

While Christine's condition did not noticeably improve and Mme. Giry was beginning to get really concerned about her, she became more and more confident that at least she did not have to worry about Erik anymore. By now he must be safe. Every day that passed without news of the Phantom's capture brought him further away, closer to safety. She was not sure whether he had tried to leave the country by sea or land, but after a week she was certain that he would have reached either England or Belgium in the meantime.

She thanked God that he had helped Erik escape and prayed that he might heal his broken heart and to let Christine recover as well.

Xxxx

Christine's fever had been equally high for over a week. Christine was getting weaker every day, her body seemed less and less able to fight the disease. The doctor's frown deepened when he checked on her. He did not have much hope left. "If only we could break her fever," he muttered. "But she has been pretty unresponsive to everything we have tried." Mme. Giry nodded. "It's her soul that is sick," she murmured. "I cannot really do anything to heal her soul," the doctor commented. "Somebody else will have to help her. I am at the end of my knowledge in this case."

Mme. Giry watched him, as he left. She was furious at the man. Of course she knew that he had tried everything he could think of, without success, but he was practically giving up on Christine while she was still alive. She would not do that. She would fight for Christine's life, stay with Christine, till she either got better or died. Christine began to toss again, calling for Raoul and her Angel, crying in fear, begging them to stop the killing, the insanity, asking them to forgive her. She became more and more agitated. Mme. Giry grasped her hand and gently caressed it. Her heart went out to the young woman who had suffered so much at the hands of the two men who loved her.

"Calm down, Christine," she murmured. "This is all over. Everything has been resolved. You need not worry anymore. They are both safe, your fiancé and your teacher. Neither of them is harmed. And they both love you. They both are sorry that they have put you through so much pain. They understand now. They accept your decision now. Both of them. They ask you to forgive them for the stress they have put you through. Calm down, all is well. Fight the fever and stay with us. You cannot leave us all now when the pain is behind and you can finally be happy."

Mme. Giry continued to repeat these words over and over, assuring Christine that everything was fine, that the future would be bright and that the two men would not put her under pressure anymore. After a while she noticed that Christine seemed less agitated. She was not imploring her two suitors anymore, she was almost smiling. "Safe," she murmured. "Love."

Christine leant back on her pillows, closed her eyes and with a faint smile on her face, she fell asleep. Mme. Giry barely dared to hope, but when she touched the sleeping woman's forehead, it had cooled off considerably. The fever had broken. She sat down quietly next to the bed and thanked God for his mercy. "At least she can be happy now," she murmured, once again thinking of the man who loved her surrogate daughter so much that he had set her free, even though doing so had broken his heart.

Christine slept the whole night and most of the next day. When she finally woke in the late afternoon, she smiled at Mme. Giry. "I thought it was you," she said dreamily. "I was not sure how you could possibly be here, but I thought I heard you speak. Is it true? Is everything fine now? Will there be no further fights and competition?" Mme. Giry smiled at her. "It is true. You and the Vicomte can get married and have the life together that the two of you have dreamed about."


	5. Recovery

Thank you all for reading, reviewing, alerting and favoriting this story!

I am sorry, if you have been waiting to learn where Erik went, you must be patient. We are dealing with Christine first, but we will be getting to Erik, I promise.

Just to remind you all: I don't own anything or anybody, no change there. Now on to Christine ;-)

Chapter 4 – Recovery

Christine smiled. "Raoul?" she asked. "Is he really safe?" Mme. Giry nodded. "The Vicomte is fine. He is currently suffering from a cold, which is the reason why he is not allowed to see you, but he is much better already and will soon be well."

Christine frowned. The memory of Raoul, dripping wet, standing in the lake, a noose around his neck quickly passed through her mind. "You are not just saying that to make me relax?" she asked hesitantly. Mme. Giry shook her head and held Christine's hand. "I would not lie to you," she said, "he is fine. He will be so relieved to hear that you are better," she added in an attempt to comfort Christine. "He loves you very much and he was worried about you." She smiled at Christine. "As was I," she added, "and Meg."

Christine looked at her questioningly. "How long have I been ill?" she asked nervously. Mme. Giry hesitated. Christine was just beginning to recover. Was it wise to shock her by telling her she had been delirious for over a week?

"Tell me," Christine begged. "The truth, please. No more lies." Christine bit her lips as her angel's deformed face briefly appeared before her mind's eyes. While it was true that Mme. Giry had been his confidante all those years, it had been him who had lied to her, deceived her. Her angel. She had trusted him and adored him and he… She shuddered at the memory of the madness that had consumed him the night of "Don Juan Triumphant", when he had very nearly killed Raoul.

"Nine days," Mme. Giry finally admitted. "You had a rather high fever, but the fever has finally broken and you will soon be fully recovered." Christine looked into the far distance. "So long," she murmured. "How much has happened in such a long time that I know nothing about." Mme. Giry smiled. "I am sure a lot of things have happened those past few days, but I am fairly certain most of them do not concern us in the least."

Christine seemed to consider for a moment before voicing the next question. It was almost as if she were afraid to hear the answer. "My Angel?" she asked. "Is he… did they..?" She once again relived those terrible moments in his lair, when he had threatened to kill Raoul if she did not stay with him. She had hated him then, called him names, and yet, when she finally understood that there was no other way, she had not only promised to become his wife, she had also put the engagement ring on her finger and kissed him willingly. Something had happened between them then, something she could not describe. Her hatred, her fury had somehow dissipated once their lips touched, and he had been her angel once again, her most-trusted friend and teacher. She had suddenly felt the strong urge to show him that his face did not matter, she had reached out to him, had caressed his disfigured cheek, had smiled at his hideous face and kissed him again. He then had acted as a true friend and had let her go with Raoul. He had released her from her promise, even though she could see that sending her away with Raoul cost him dearly. She remembered returning the ring to him. He had looked so defeated and he had been crying. Seeing her proud angel so miserable had hurt her. It had taken all her strength to abandon the deeply shaken man and return to her beloved Raoul, especially when her poor angel finally confessed to her, what she had hoped, longed and feared to hear for so long. "Christine, I love you!"

Mme. Giry interrupted her reverie. "Do not fear, Christine," she said calmly. "He will not bother you any longer." Christine looked up in alarm. "What do you mean?" she asked, fearing the worst. "He is not… dead?" The last word was barely more than a whisper. Mme. Giry understood that despite everything he had put her through Christine still had feelings for her former teacher. She shook her head and smiled at the young woman. "Erik is not dead," she said. "But he has accepted that you do not love him the way he would have wanted you to, that your heart has chosen the Vicomte. He will therefore stay out of your life and allow you to be happy with the man you love."

Christine stared at her. "Erik?" she asked curiously. "My angel is called Erik?" Mme. Giry nodded. "Yes. Hasn't he told you?" Christine looked down, ashamed. "I never bothered to ask," she murmured. She felt bad. Her angel, Erik, had done so much for her and she had not even shown him the common courtesy of asking for his name. Small wonder he had feared rejection, had hidden behind that angel-persona as long as possible. It finally dawned on her that he had not done so in order to deceive her, but to protect himself against disappointment and rejection. He had built a wall around himself and she had never even thought about looking beyond that wall, about learning more about him, understanding him better. She decided that this would have to change. From now on, she would be a real friend to him.

"Where is he now?" she asked. "The Opera is not safe anymore, or is it?" Mme. Giry hesitated. What was Christine thinking? Did she not know that Erik was a wanted criminal? Should she tell her or would this be too much for the convalescent young woman? Something in Christine's eyes told her that she wanted the truth, so Mme. Giry began cautiously. "He is on the run. He is wanted because he set the Opera on fire." At Christine's horrified look she hastened to add, "he has not been caught, though, and by now he should be safe." Christine stared at her, eyes wide with shock. "Safe? How can he be safe when he is being hunted by the authorities?" she asked worriedly.

"Calm down," Mme. Giry admonished her surrogate daughter. "If you get that agitated, I cannot tell you any more details." Christine nodded. "I know now why he did all these things, the fire, abducting me from the stage, everything. He did it because he loves me. He saw no chance for his love and wanted to force me to return his feelings." She shivered. "This is all my fault," she whispered. "All this happened, because I could not love him."

Mme. Giry put a comforting hand on Christine's shoulder. "It is not your fault that you don't love him," she reassured Christine. "One cannot tell one's heart who to love." Christine shook her head. "I should have shown him more openly how much he means to me," she murmured. "He gave me so much, my voice, his music, his friendship and I.." she fought back tears. "I just left him when Raoul came along. I never told him that I still value him as a friend. He must have felt so abandoned, so alone…" Her heart ached at the memory of the broken look in her angel's eyes. Such deep, expressive eyes that could threaten and adore at the same time.

Christine turned to Mme. Giry again. "Where is he?" she asked. "You know, do you not? He trusts you, does he not?" Mme. Giry shook her head. "I do not know where he is. He did not know himself yet, and he would not have told me anyway," she added. "He did not want to get me involved in his problems." Christine smiled. "That's so like my angel," she whispered, smiling. "You have talked to him after the fire?" she then asked anxiously. "Did he say… did he…" she stammered, "did he say something about me?" Suddenly she felt such a wild hope within her, she was not quite sure what she expected to hear, but it was as if her life depended on getting any information on his current feelings for her.

Mme. Giry was surprised to see Christine's cheeks turn pink at that question. Why would Christine blush? It was perfectly natural that she wanted to know if her former teacher had said something about her or left a message for her. There really was no reason to blush, except… Mme. Giry gasped. "Oh my God," she thought by herself, "if I did not know otherwise, I could almost believe that Christine's feelings for Erik are stronger than she lets on." She decided to keep an eye on Christine and observe her closely for other signs that might support that suspicion.

"He asked me to tell you he is sorry," she relayed Erik's message. "And he hopes that one day you will be able to forgive him." Tears started running down Christine's cheeks. "_He_ asks _me_ to forgive him?" she asked sobbing. "I broke his heart when I abandoned him for Raoul. It is I that needs to ask his forgiveness." The pained look in her angel's face when she returned the ring to him once again haunted her memory. He had been so miserable then, so utterly alone. She felt bad for having left with Raoul, when her angel would have needed her.

"He has forgiven you," Mme. Giry tried to comfort her surrogate daughter. "He knows now that it is not your fault that you love Raoul. He wishes you all the best." She glanced at Christine to observe her reaction to these words. "Raoul", Christine whispered. Her fiancé, her childhood sweetheart, her knight in shining armor. She did indeed love him. Then why could she not get Erik's sad eyes out of her mind? Why kept she hearing his voice telling her between tears that he loved her? Why did she suddenly remember the sensation of his lips on hers, her hand caressing his deformity? She had been at the end of her nerves, furious with her angel and under extreme emotional stress. Erik had been raving mad with jealousy and heart-broken because she had rejected him. The memories of those moments should therefore be traumatizing, and yet… Christine sighed at the memory of her and Erik kissing. She had kissed other men before, most noticeably Raoul, but kissing Erik had been different, almost magical and had filled her with a longing she could not describe.

Christine shook off those thoughts. She had probably imagined this. She had been ill, maybe she did not remember too clearly because of her illness. She was probably getting different memories mixed up, for whose kisses would she enjoy more than those of her fiancé, her beloved Raoul?

Xxxx

The fever had left Christine extremely weak and she had to stay in bed for a few more days. After another few days the doctor decided that Raoul's cold was not contagious anymore and therefore allowed him to visit Christine.

Christine smiled happily, when she saw her fiancé for the first time since the night of the fire. "Raoul," she greeted him, "I am so glad to see you." He was still a bit pale from his recent cold, but other than that, he seemed to have coped well with the events of that night. Neither his neck nor his behavior bore traces of the ordeal he had gone through that night. Christine almost got a bit annoyed. How could he look so good and be so cheerful when Erik had lost everything and was a wanted criminal on top of everything? Did he not care that that night had destroyed another man's life, his chance at happiness?

"My Little Lotte is better, I see," Raoul beamed at her, sitting down on her bed and pulling her in his arms. Christine was suddenly very aware of the fact that she was only wearing a thin night-gown and pulled up the covers. Raoul laughed. "We are getting married anyway as soon as you are well again, Christine," he said, deriding her embarrassment. "Soon you will be my wife."

Christine looked at him, uncertainly. "We had not planned to get married so soon," she reminded him, wondering once again how he could even think about marriage after all they had been through. She needed time, not only to recover from her current illness, but for her emotional scars to heal as well. She needed to deal with her guilt regarding Erik, she needed to make sure Raoul understood why she had kissed Erik and did not hold any grudges . She had to be absolutely sure that Raoul would not start getting jealous of Erik after having watched her kiss her angel. All these issues needed to be resolved before she and Raoul could get married and live happily ever after. Assuming there was a happily ever after for her after having witnessed Erik's despair. The broken look of his eyes would probably haunt her till the end of her days.

"There is no reason to wait any longer," she heard Raoul say. "You are finally free of this monster, there is nothing now that keeps us apart." Christine winced at the use of the word 'monster'. She knew better. Erik was no monster. He was her angel. He was kind and caring. It had been she, Christine, who had turned him into a monster by rejecting his love. She had hurt him so deeply that he had gone temporarily insane.

"I think we need some time," she argued. "We have to deal with the events of that night, we have to make sure what happened to us has had no ill after-effects…" Raoul interrupted her. "Nonsense, Lotte, we have to forget about it all. It's in the past. The present and the future belong to us. The sooner you can forget that raving madman, the better." He gave her his most seductive look. "The sooner you can feel what it is like to lie in the arms of a real man, having a real man make love to you, the sooner you will forget the offense of this foul creature's hands on you, his lips…" Raoul shuddered. The mere thought of his Christine kissing that monster made him sick. She should be lucky that he still wanted her after she had prostituted herself like that with this freak.

"Raoul, please," Christine stared at him uncomprehendingly. Had he always been like this? The way how he talked about Erik was hurtful, and he barely listened to her concerns. She suddenly remembered their first encounter after years, the night of the premiere of "Hannibal". He had asked her out for dinner, but she had promised her angel to stay home. When she had declined the invitation, Raoul had not listened, he had simply told her that she had to change. Now that she thought about it, she remembered a few similar incidents. It began to dawn on her that Raoul was not used to being denied anything he wanted. He could not accept a "No".

Christine stared at Raoul as if she saw him for the first time. "Is that why he wanted me?" she asked herself, shocked. "Because I had refused his invitation? Because he felt there was some competition and it would be a fun sport to pry me away from my angel and win me over like a trophy? Was his willingness to protect me just an excuse to continue fighting against my angel? Is that why he wants us to get married quickly – before I can see through all this and change my mind?"

"What are you thinking about, Little Lotte?" Raoul asked. "I told you, all is well, we can finally be happy together. Why don't you smile and tell me you want to marry me as soon as possible?" He pulled her closer. Christine stiffened. Something was not right. She had always enjoyed Raoul's embrace so far, but his insensitivity, his lack of understanding for the emotional turmoil she was in, put her off. How could she think of love and marriage when she had condemned her angel to loneliness and despair?

"Raoul, please," she begged. "Give me some time. I have been through so much…" Raoul interrupted her. "I am sorry I could not spare you that," he cooed. "I wish I had been with you all those years, so that this madman would never have got you under his spell. I wish I could have protected you better."

Christine smiled. It was obvious that Raoul did not understand that Erik was neither a madman nor a danger to her. There would be no point in trying to explain this to him. If anything it would make him jealous of her angel again. It would not help to upset Raoul even more. Therefore she relented. "If it is so important to you, we can probably get married soon," she said. She did love Raoul after all, so why would she want to wait?

Raoul smiled. "I do want to have you as my wife, Christine," he whispered into her ear. "I do not think I can wait much longer. Christine, I love you!" Christine closed her eyes as a memory of somebody else saying those very same words to her came unbidden. Erik's poor, disfigured face had been bathed in tears, losing her had caused him so much pain, and yet, he had given her this wonderful gift, her freedom and that of her fiancé, out of love. How different Raoul was. How selfish his love was compared to Erik's.

Christine was still pondering about the differences of her two suitors' love for her, when she sensed Raoul's lips on hers, his tongue trying to part her lips and gain access into her mouth. She abandoned herself to his kiss and waited for the magic to happen, for that indescribable sensation that had enveloped her whole being when she had kissed Erik. If kissing her angel could awake such wonderful feelings in her, surely kissing the man she loved should be even better?

She sensed how Raoul deepened the kiss and she clung to him, trying desperately to make this kiss as memorable as the one she had shared with Erik, but nothing happened. No magic, no desire to touch Raoul or be touched by him, no feeling of butterflies in her stomach. Christine broke away. She suddenly knew why this did not feel right. She was kissing the wrong man.


	6. Realization

I am back! Thank you all for reading, reviewing, alerting, favoriting! I am really proud of the wonderful reviews I get for all my stories.

I must apologize for the delay, the Round Robin I mentioned earlier arrived in my mail-box and I had to write my chapter for that one first. I can tell you, it's quite an interesting experience to write one chapter of a story that several others have worked at already and you have no idea where it will be going once the next writer adds a chapter. Surprisingly, so far it sounds rather good to me and I am sure the last writer will resolve it all perfectly. I am looking forward to reading the finished product.

Anyway, let's see what Christine is doing next, now that she has figured out something important.

Just to make sure, I don't own anything or anybody, and you all know that sucks.

Chapter 5 – Realization

"No, Raoul, please!" Christine's voice sounded frantic. Raoul frowned at her. What had gotten into his Little Lotte? One moment she was returning his kiss, the next moment she broke away, almost fighting him?

"Afraid we might take it a bit further than a kiss?" he asked jokingly, trying to pull her close to him again and silence her with yet another kiss. Christine struggled. This would not be easy. How could she make him understand that she had changed her mind, that she did not want to marry him anymore? Her decision would certainly come as a shock to him and it would hurt him, though Christine was suddenly not so sure anymore if it would not be mostly his pride that would be hurt.

"Mme. Giry, please," she gasped. "I need to talk to her. Please, Raoul!" Raoul stared at her. She had never had problems with being kissed by him before. Why did she suddenly ask for a chaperone? He understood, though, that he had to call for the ballet mistress if he did not want to cause a scandal. Christine had raised her voice and if she continued that way the servants would hear her scream and their imagination would run rampant about what might or might not have happened between him and is fiancée.

"All right, then," he said, releasing Christine. "I will send Mme. Giry to you. Hopefully she will be able to talk some sense into you." With that he left the room. Christine fell into the pillows, sobbing. She had obviously managed to upset Raoul. He would now be even less willing to release her from their engagement than before. She sighed. At least it was only a secret engagement, so Raoul would not be subject to gossip or ridicule if they broke it off. She would have been calmer, though, if only she had not had the feeling that her childhood sweetheart would not easily accept her "No".

The door opened and Mme. Giry entered the room. The sight of Christine sobbing into the pillows alarmed her. She hastened to her surrogate daughter's side and pulled her into her arms. "Shh, Christine," she cooed. "It's all right. I am here with you." She held the sobbing young woman comfortingly, waiting for Christine to calm down and tell her what had upset her so.

After a while Christine's sobbing ceased. She still clung to the ballet mistress like to a lifeline, though, and when she finally spoke, she sounded desperate. "Take me home, please," she implored her surrogate mother. "I want to be with you and Meg. I cannot stay here."

Mme. Giry smiled at her. "I am not sure you are well enough to leave here," she said cautiously, "though I have to agree that it would be more appropriate for you to stay with us until you and the Vicomte are married."

Christine shook her head. "It's not that," she whispered. "I don't think I can marry Raoul." She blushed deeply, remembering the feeling of being in her angel's arms at the end of their duet, just before she had ripped his mask off. She could not understand anymore why she had done that. She had been so confused, in prey of contradictory emotions. Raoul had told her it was her duty to help bring her angel to justice, that everybody's hopes and prayers were on her. The theater had been brimming with gendarmes, everybody's nerves had been frayed and she had had troubles concentrating on her role even before her angel had come on stage and taken over the part of Don Juan. His voice, his mere presence had shaken her even more. She had been so afraid. Afraid of what he might do, as well as concerned for his safety. Then, towards the end of their duet, they had stumbled into each other's arms, he had held her close, caressed her face and neck and implored her to share her life with him. She bit he lips. She did not know why, but he had used the same words she and Raoul had said to each other all those months ago on the roof of the Opera Populaire and instead of listening to her angel those words had suddenly reminded her of Raoul and she had automatically carried out her fiancé's plan.

Mme. Giry stared at Christine, surprised. "You do not want to marry the Vicomte?" she asked, and as Christine shook her head, she continued. "Why ever not? Has something happened between the two of you? Have you had an argument?"

Christine laid her head on Mme. Giry's shoulder. "I think I made a huge mistake," she whispered. Mme. Giry held her breath. Had she been right with her suspicion? Was there hope for Erik after all? She felt more relieved than surprised when Christine continued, "my angel…."

Mme. Giry smiled at her. "I told you, you need not worry," she said. "He should be safe by now, and he wants you to be happy with the man you love." Tears once again began to run down Christine's cheeks and she shook her head violently.

"He should not have to run," she whispered. "He should be here with us. This is all my fault." Mme. Giry pulled her closer when Christine's sobbing started anew. "I should have realized," Christine whimpered. "Before I knew he was a real person I always dreamed how wonderful it would be if he were a man." She blushed deeply. "A man that would love me and that I could love back."

Mme. Giry was not particularly surprised by this revelation. She had guessed that much from Christine's behavior at that time. But then the Vicomte had made his appearance and Christine seemed to have preferred her childhood friend.

"He gave me everything," Christine continued, "and I repaid him so poorly. Yes, he has quite a temper and he frightened me for a moment, but when I saw his face and understood how much he must have suffered because of it…" She remembered that morning in her angel's lair, when she had taken his mask off for the first time. Her angel – Erik she reminded herself, his name is Erik – had been furious. In an instinctive attempt to protect himself he had brutally pushed her away. Yet even in his rage he had not seriously harmed her, and once he had bared his soul to her, revealed his low self-esteem to her, her heart had gone out to him, she remembered. She should have known then, should have understood that his face did not matter, that nothing had changed between them. But a few weeks later she had accepted Raoul's proposal. Why?

"Buquet," she finally mumbled. "He – Erik – killed him." Mme. Giry nodded. She began to understand. "I think I was shocked," Christine continued. "And scared. And furious to discover that my beloved angel, my most trusted friend, was a murderer."

Mme. Giry realized how much that revelation must have troubled Christine. But surely she knew what had happened that night? "Buquet was stalking Erik," she explained. "He already knew too much and talked too much. I had warned Buquet repeatedly, he did not listen. He once again followed Erik that night. It came to a confrontation between them, up in the rafters…" her voice trailed. She was not particularly proud of Erik's action, but she understood why he had done it.

Christine nodded. "I should have known there was a reason. But I was so shocked. And hurt," she added in a whisper. "I felt like I had given my heart to somebody undeserving of it." Mme. Giry began to see clear now. Buquet's death had driven Christine into the Vicomte's arms. Christine's next words confirmed her suspicion. "I was suddenly so scared," the young woman sobbed. "And I felt so betrayed. My angel was not an angel at all, but a murderer! And there was Raoul, my childhood sweetheart. He promised to keep me safe, and he told me he loved me. It was like in a fairy-tale, as if we had always known we'd get married one day. As if we were meant to be." Christine faced her surrogate mother. "With him I felt safe, and we kissed, and it was romantic to think that he had loved me since we had been children. And I did not see my angel for months. I thought he might have left and was glad that I had Raoul."

Mme. Giry smiled at the sobbing woman. "Are you trying to tell me that you are in love with Erik?" she asked. "For I cannot think of any other explanation for your current distress," she added calmly.

Christine looked down. "Yes," she whispered. "I did not know, though. At first I thought I loved him, but after "Il Muto" and Buquet I was scared, and then Raoul proposed, and I thought I loved him, but I could not forget my angel," she confessed. "When he came to the New Year's Masquerade, and when I met him at the cemetery…" In both instances she had been instinctively drawn to him, had even protected him at the cemetery. "And then Raoul told me I had to act as bait, because my angel was such a dangerous killer, and then…" Christine sobbed again. "He escaped from the stage with me, but Raoul followed us and my angel threatened to kill Raoul, and I hated him for his cruelty." Mme. Giry shivered involuntarily. This was her fault. She should not have sent the Vicomte after Erik and Christine. Since deep down Christine had always loved Erik, the two would probably have been able to resolve their differences.

Christine looked at her. "Even you shiver at the thought of him killing Raoul," she whispered. "Then he said he would let Raoul go, if I stayed with him, and I said yes to save Raoul's life. And then…" Christine started to sob again. "He was not wearing his mask," she continued. "And it did not matter. He had not asked me to, yet I felt, that as his fiancée, I should kiss him…" She blushed. Somehow she had hoped he would kiss her, but when he hadn't, she had taken the initiative. After all, an engagement had to be sealed with a kiss.

"The moment we kissed, everything changed," Christine continued. "I was not angry at him anymore, I did not fear him anymore, I wanted to touch him, I caressed his deformed face." She smiled at the memory. "It was not disgusting at all," she confessed. "His skin in this area may be thin, but it is soft. When we broke away, I smiled. I was not afraid of staying with him anymore, I wanted to be with him. I kissed him again." Christine's face fell. "And then he sent me away, said I should go with Raoul and forget all about him. I was so confused. Too much had happened in such a short time. I had not had time to process it all. The emotions I experienced when we kissed and touched, it was all still so new, I had not figured out yet that it was more than our previous friendship had been. So I left with Raoul and returned the ring to Erik. He was so miserable," she sobbed. "It broke my heart to see him like that, but I was still under the impression that I belonged with Raoul, so I left, even though my angel finally told me that he loves me."

Christine paused, exhausted. "There had been a time when I had hoped my angel would love me," she whispered. "But then, with Buquet and all that, I feared he might be in love with me, and in the end, when he dragged me down to is lair after I had ripped off his mask during the performance, I thought he might just want to…" she blushed deeply. "To… use me," she finished. "And then he finally told me that he loves me, when I was about to leave with Raoul."

Mme. Giry looked at her questioningly. "What makes you so sure that you are in love with Erik?" she asked. "Your feelings could be pity, compassion, guilt or a combination thereof. If you want to break off with the Vicomte you have to be absolutely sure that that is what you want. There will be no going back to him, should you decide that you do want him after all, or should you decide to stay with him in case we cannot find Erik."

Christine shook her head. "I am absolutely sure. I want to be with my angel. I cannot get him out of my mind, and the longer I think about it, the more I long for his presence. I think about how he held me on stage, what I was feeling then, and what it was like to feel his lips on mine, and I do want that again. When Raoul just kissed me, it was nothing like that. When Raoul holds me, I may feel safe and protected, but not like I would want to…" she blushed again. "You know. With my angel, I wanted to touch him, to show him my love, to be as close to him as possible. Even if I never see my angel again, I cannot marry Raoul. Not now that I know what it should be like between a couple." Christine's eyes were radiating a strong, inner happiness now. "When I think of my angel, the world seems brighter," she continued, "I wish to be with him, to sing with him, to care for him, but I also want to see him look at me with love, I want him to hold me and to kiss me and to tell me over and over again how much he loves me."

Mme. Giry smiled. "That does sound like you are in love," she stated calmly. "If I had known…" She cursed inwardly. Why had she interfered, why had she sent the Vicomte after them? Without her, Christine and Erik would be together now, and probably happy.

Christine looked at her. "If you had known… then what?" she asked. What could possibly have happened differently, if Mme. Giry had known what Christine herself had only figured out just now?

The former ballet mistress suddenly looked very serious. "I need to tell you the truth," she said. "And I hope you will be able to forgive me, both of you." She took a deep breath, as if she wanted to summon all her courage, before she finally confessed. "It was I who sent the Vicomte after you and Erik. I showed him the way. I did not think that Erik would harm you, but I feared he might not let you go if you did not want to stay with him and I thought that you loved the Vicomte."

Christine's head swam. If Raoul had not come after them, she would probably be with her angel now. If all had gone well, they might be married by now. But… if Raoul had not been there, would she have kissed Erik? Would she know now how different it felt to kiss Erik than to kiss Raoul? Would she have heard his confession of love, would she have received his ultimate gift of love, her freedom?

She shook her head. "We will never know what would have happened if the Vicomte had not followed us down," she finally said. "You meant well, and maybe that confrontation was just what I needed to realize how much I love Erik. Maybe I needed to see how much he was willing to sacrifice out of love for me, before I could admit to myself that it is him I want to be with." She thought for a moment. "Did you… Does Erik know that you..?" she finally asked.

Mme. Giry shook her head. "No," she said. "I did not tell him. He was so agitated and heart-broken, I was not sure how he would take it. And then, he needed to get on the way, there was not really time. But I will tell him, when I see him again." She sighed, before adding, "if I see him again."

Christine hugged her. "We need to find him," she said. "We must not give up hope that we will see him again. I need a chance to tell him that I do love him after all." Her eyes suddenly looked sad. "If only he can forgive me," she sighed. "I have treated him so poorly, it would be understandable if he did not want anything to do with me anymore."

Mme. Giry took Christine's hand in hers and squeezed it. "He does love you," she said. "He will always love you. If you tell him all that you just have told me, I have no doubt that Erik will forgive you. If I were you, I would not worry about that. As long as we do find him…" Her voice trailed. She had no idea where her foster brother had gone and he had said he would not write. Finding him might prove quite difficult.

She looked at Christine, saw how desperate the young woman looked. "We will find him," she said determinedly. She did not know yet how they would achieve this, but she knew they simply had to find Erik. The happiness of her two protégés depended on it. "But first things first. We need to free you from your obligations towards the Vicomte. Your engagement with him needs to be called off and you need to get well again and regain your strength. You need to be healthy and strong when you see Erik again. I do not want him to think that I have not taken good care of his bride in his absence."

Christine smiled at these words. Erik's bride – once they had found her angel, she would hopefully soon be his bride. Mme. Giry was of course right. They needed to settle things with Raoul first and she needed to recover fully, but once she was free and strong again, they would go and look for Erik and they would not rest until they had found him and she had convinced him of her love. "Then," Christine thought dreamily, "my angel will take me into his arms and kiss me again."


	7. On the Run

Chapter 6 – On the Run

Erik was getting weary. Neither he nor his horse César had had much rest – or food for that matter – in over a week and he knew that they would not be able to go on like that for much longer. Unless they both got a good night's sleep and a meal they would soon drop with exhaustion and die. Erik sighed. What difference would it make if he died? His life had lost all meaning. He would never see the woman again, who had captured his heart. Even though a few days had passed, the pain of losing her was still fresh and the mere thought of her brought about an agony that seemed to drain him of all energy.

A life without Christine! How could he endure being separated from her, knowing that he would never see her again? Knowing that she was with the Vicomte, smiling at him, kissing him… Erik's heart almost stopped beating at the thought of Christine and the Vicomte in bed together, the young nobleman caressing her naked body until he finally… Erik barely suppressed a scream of agony. He had left France a few days ago, but he still did not feel safe. If he wanted not to draw attention to himself he must try to be as quiet and inconspicuous as possible.

But why did he still try to survive, now that life had lost all its appeal? Erik was not quite sure. Maybe it was some perverse need to prolong his misery, to wallow in pain and self-pity a few more days before finally giving in and accepting death and the peace of mind it would bring him. Of course, if he truly wanted death, he could have had that the night of "Don Juan". All he would have needed to do would have been to wait for the mob. As devastated and heart-broken as he had been he might not even have felt the pain and all would have been over long ago. His aching heart would be at rest by now.

Erik shook his head. No, he could not have done that. He could not have allowed his enemies such a triumph. The Vicomte had already won Christine, Erik had not wanted him to celebrate yet another victory, that of killing his rival. Erik's determination to deny them the joy of having defeated him was what had given him the strength to leave his lair and try to escape. After wandering through the tunnels of the burning Opera for a few minutes, trying to avoid whoever was down there looking for him, he had remembered César. If the horse was not found by the mob it would certainly die, either from the fire or from lack of food, if Erik did not take his loyal animal with him. He had to get to César for both their sakes. The horse could not remain in its current hiding place, and he, Erik might be better able to escape with César's help.

Using the most deserted tunnels, he quietly made his way to César's stall. To his relief, the horse was not only still there, but also unharmed by the fire and smoke. It had taken a while to wrap César's hooves with old rags so that they would make no noise, and to lead the stallion to the Rue Scribe exit which was unknown to the Vicomte and his gendarmes. Erik hoped that nobody would be looking for him there and he was right. To be on the safe side he had not gone directly to Antoinette's house but made a detour. Thus he had been able to avoid discovery.

Even though it might have been wiser to run as fast as possible and get as far ahead of potential pursuers as possible, he still had stopped at Antoinette's place. He owed her that much. She was the closest thing to family he had ever had and he knew she would be worried. She also deserved to know that Christine was safe with her fiancé. Getting out of his wet clothes had definitely been an additional bonus. After all, it was only February and the outside temperature was only barely above freezing point. At least it was not snowing, so he and César did not leave visible traces.

Erik had hoped to get a good head start and put considerable distance between himself and his pursuers. Maybe they would think he had died in the fire, but once they'd search the ruins without finding his body they would certainly be looking for him. By then they might also know about his horse, assuming the primitive stable was discovered during their search for his remains. He therefore had to make sure that he was as far away from Paris as possible, once they would start searching for him.

As soon as they had left Paris behind, Erik had forced César into a gallop. He had avoided the roads and gone across the fields and through the woods. They had passed the border by night two days later, but Erik did not feel safe yet. He wanted to get as far away from France as possible. Who knew if the Vicomte had friends in Belgium or some of the smaller German sovereignties that he might ask for help? Erik did not dare show himself openly by daylight yet, even though he had left the country of his latest crime behind.

There would also not be much sense in approaching a village, since Erik had next to no money. He had had a few coins on him, sure, but those would not get him far. He might be able to exchange them for some food, but it probably was too soon for that. He was still too close to the French border. Maybe in a few days, when he would be even farther away from the city, where his destiny had fulfilled itself, he would dare buy some provisions. Nothing fancy, just a loaf of bread and some cheese. But he would not risk doing so now.

Since it was winter, his chances of survival in the open were rather low. He could not pick some berries or cook some herbs or roots and since he did not bring any weapons hunting would be quite a challenge. Food for himself was not the only problem, though. There barely was any grass for César, the horse was getting just as starved as his master. Then there was the lack of sleep. Because of the cold, even huddled together, they could not rest too long without risking to fall ill. Would it really matter? Maybe it was best to end their misery sooner rather than later. Maybe if he and César laid down tonight they would fall asleep with exhaustion and never wake up again. Erik sighed. Who would care? Antoinette? She might never know that he had died. Christine? As much as he hoped that she would mourn his death despite everything he had put her through, he could not help but think she might actually feel relieved to know that he would never be able to harm her again.

As if he had ever wanted to harm her! No, Erik shook his head. His intention had never been to hurt Christine. His Christine, his fresh rose, the sunshine of his life. He would have done anything in his power to make her happy. He corrected himself. He had done all he could to ensure her happiness. He had let her go. He had allowed her to go with this fiancé of hers, this spoiled brat, who had never learned to take "no" for an answer.

Christine! Erik's thoughts once again returned to her. What was she doing now? Had she already married the Vicomte? Probably not. Even if they rushed their wedding they would most likely not be able to get married within a fortnight. She had gone with the Vicomte though. Were they living together now, before their wedding? Living together – in sin? Once again Erik's mind was assaulted by pictures of a naked Christine, enjoying the Vicomte's caresses and willingly spreading her legs for him. Why could he not get such thoughts out of his mind? What business of his was it to think about what Christine and the Vicomte were or were not doing together? They were engaged, for Heaven's sake, soon to be married. Surely they could enjoy each other's company every way they wanted. They did not need his approval.

Erik sighed. Would this pain ever diminish, would he ever get over the fact that he had lost Christine? Would he ever be able to think of her and remember only the good things, the joy she had brought into his life, their music lessons, the way she had trusted and, yes, loved him, when he had still been her angel?

It was about to get dark and Erik and César were both exhausted, when Erik spotted a small barn not too far away. He could not detect a village or even a farm house nearby. It would therefore be safe for him and César to seek shelter there for the night. Now if only they could find some food as well…

Erik directed the horse towards the barn. At closer inspection it became obvious that nobody had been there for weeks. Erik therefore dared leading César inside. To his surprise the barn was well-stocked with straw and hay. Therefore at least the horse would be able to eat his fill, and they would be warm in the straw. There also was a little creek behind the barn, so they would not be thirsty. When Erik lead César to the creek, he discovered a few fish. It had been years since he had last tried to catch a fish with his bare hands, but after a while he succeeded. He caught more than he would need for dinner and breakfast, intending to fry them all and take some with him for the next day.

Xxxx

For the next few weeks, Erik and César continued their journey like that: When they found something to eat or a place to sleep, they ate and slept, then went without food and sleep for the next few days. It was early spring now and it was getting easier to find some fresh grass for César. Erik had once bought some bread at a market, in the afternoon, when it had already been rather dark and his mask could not be spotted that easily.

Erik was not quite sure where he was at the moment, but he thought that he must be somewhere close to the center of Germany. He had no reason to think that he was still being pursued. He therefore began feeling safe. It would soon be time to think about what he wanted to do with his life now. He grimaced at the thought. With the ruins of his life. The life without Christine. The life in loneliness and despair which he now had to endure till one day death would set him free.

Once again he considered death as an option. It would be easy to prepare a potion that would make him fall asleep peacefully, never to wake up again. He knew the necessary herbs only too well, and now that it was getting warmer, they would soon grow all around him.

Erik sighed. The thought did have its appeal. No more pain, no more hurt, no more feeling of betrayal, just peace and nothingness. But wasn't that what his adversaries wanted? His death? Wasn't that what the Vicomte had planned all along? Somehow he felt that if he gave in to this overwhelming desire to end his misery the Vicomte would win again. He could not let that happen. The young nobleman had lured his Christine away from him, but Erik would not give him reason to think that in doing so he had destroyed Erik's life. Even though he had. But Erik would not admit this. Erik would not prove to his rival how deeply losing Christine had hurt him by taking his own life. He would somehow muster the energy to carry on, to show the Vicomte and … Christine, that he was perfectly fine without her.

Erik's pride had won out. He would somehow learn to live without Christine. It could not be too difficult, or could it? After all, he had lived over twenty years before she had come into his life. He had been happy without her then, why shouldn't he be able to be content now? Deep down he knew the answer to this question. Back then he had not known yet what it was like to be in love, how it felt to listen to a beloved woman's voice, to hold her hand and guide a trusting woman to his lair, to watch her sleep, to … feel her lips on his and her slender fingers on his disfigured cheek. Oh Christine! How much he missed her already and it had only been a few weeks since he last saw her. His hand reached for his breast pocket. The ring – Christine's engagement ring – that she had returned to him that night after having worn it on her finger for a short time, as his bride, burned there as a reminder of his lost love, of the cruel choice he had put her through and of the sacrifice that had broken his heart.

He took the ring out of the pocket and looked at it. This ring had seen him at his absolute worst, but it had also witnessed his one moment of absolute bliss, when Christine had kissed him. And the ring was there when he did the hardest, but also most noble thing he had done in his whole life, when he released Christine, when he put her needs first and gave up on every hope of happiness for himself. Christine had worn that ring on her finger, if only briefly, for him. When she had left him, she had returned it to him. She had put it into his hand and wrapped his fingers around it to show him she wanted him to have that ring. As a reminder of what had been between them, could have been between them, but now never would be. Erik looked at the ring. He would draw strength from it, strength to survive and to begin a new life elsewhere – alone.

Erik mustered his surroundings. Where exactly was he? And where did he want to go? Where would it be safe for him to start this new life? Somehow he was not so comfortable at the thought of remaining somewhere in Central Europe. Maybe a lesser civilized country would be safer for him, though the Eastern coast of the Mediterranean might not be such a good choice either. That would be too close to Persia. He thought for a moment. Maybe the Balkans? Or Egypt? One of the larger islands in the Mediterranean might also be an option. Malta, perhaps, Sicily, or even Cyprus.

But what would he do, once he had found a place to live? He would need to find a way to provide for himself, a steady income. He doubted that a composer or a designer of torture chambers would be in high demand in either of these places. If he wanted to work as an architect he would have to live in a large city, which he wanted to avoid. What else could he do? He could of course try to find work as either a carpenter or a mason, but who would hire him – despite his mask? People in those areas were even more superstitious than in civilized countries and he might be setting himself for even more rejection by going to the fringes of the civilized world.

Erik cursed. How would he even get to any of these remote places? He would need passage on a ship if he wanted to go anywhere in the Mediterranean, and in order to get passage he would need money. Which he did not have access to. Why had he not planned ahead better and taken some cash with him? He had had enough lying around in his lair. Erik knew why. He had been too depressed, too heart-broken to think about such worldly things as money. Now it would be extremely hard to get his hands on a sum large enough to pay for passage to one of the islands.

What should he do? Erik dismissed the idea of stealing immediately. He had barely shaken off the French authorities, he did not want to risk drawing attention to himself by getting into conflict with the law again. He bit his lip. He could of course try to sell César, but somehow he did not want to get rid of his one remaining companion. Also, César was a rather well-bred horse, and with his borrowed, now filthy clothes, Erik looked like a vagabond. What if a potential buyer doubted his ownership of the stallion?

Erik definitely would not sell the ring. He would rather starve to death. And of course it would not be any easier to convince a jeweler that the ring was rightfully his than it would be with César. Should he try to find work? Somehow he still felt too close to Paris and the Vicomte. Rumors of a masked man working somewhere in the middle of Europe could easily reach his rival. Maybe if he went farther south. He would have to go south anyway, if he wanted to reach the Mediterranean. Maybe once he reached Italy, he would dare trying to find a job.

Italy. Erik did not particularly relish the thought of going there again, even though it had been over fifteen years since he had left that country in a mad rush. A feeling of guilt surged within him at the memory of Luciana. She had been so young, so full of life. So curious and meddlesome. He had not intended to kill her, and yet, in a way, he had caused her death, had destroyed a young woman's life.

Erik suddenly stiffened. So many deaths had lined his way. Luciana was just one of them. For the first time since the night that had ended his dreams did it occur to him that maybe losing Christine was his punishment for the crimes he had committed in his youth, long before she had entered his life. He stopped César, jumped off his back and lay down on the ground, crying like he had never cried before, crying about his crimes, for his victims and for his lost love, for he finally understood why he had been unworthy of Christine and what she had meant that night when she had told him that his true distortion was in his soul.


	8. The Past

Chapter 7 – The Past

A few weeks later, Erik had crossed the Alps on his way southward, towards Italy. He had decided he would have to pass through Rome. Many years ago, as a very young man, he had lived there for a while, until Luciana's violent death had driven him away overnight. But during his stay in Rome he had worked for Luciana's father Giovanni and he had been able to save some money then. Some money, that he had put into a savings account with a Roman bank. When he had left head over heels, he had not had time to withdraw that money. Erik therefore hoped that this small sum might still be waiting for him in Rome, possibly even slightly increased thanks to interests that had accumulated over the years, and he had every intention of using it now to help him start a new life.

The passage of the Alps had once again been very taxing for both, Erik and his stallion. They had been fighting against snow and ice and food had been scarce. Both were very thin and almost starved, when they finally reached the Po Valley.

It was almost summer by then, the weather was warm and sunny and food was growing all around them. If they slept in the open they did not have to fear freezing over night any longer. Yet Erik felt restless. Now that he knew he was going to Rome, he wanted to get there as fast as possible – or rather, he wanted to be out of Rome again as fast as possible. In a way the thought of Rome made him nervous. He had never been there again since Luciana's death, he did not even know whether Giovanni was still alive. The mason had been in his forties then and would now be around sixty. Unless the shock at the death of his beloved daughter had killed him, Giovanni was therefore probably still around, maybe even still running his business.

Erik was determined to avoid any chance of running into his old master while in Rome. If there was anything that he feared more than being caught by the Vicomte's men, it was facing Giovanni again after all those years. Erik knew how much Giovanni had loved his youngest daughter. He could therefore imagine how hard her loss would have hit the miserable father. He was fairly certain that Giovanni blamed him for Luciana's death and that seeing him again would reopen the old man's wounds. He would therefore try to spend as little time as possible in the Eternal City, he would try to withdraw his money and then head for a nearby port, Civitavecchia probably, to find passage to one of the islands from there.

The fear of an encounter with his former master was not the only thing troubling Erik's mind. Christine still was very much in his thoughts and his heart still ached at her loss. But while so far he had blamed his misfortune on his face and the Vicomte's interference, he now was more and more convinced that he had brought it all upon himself. The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that Christine had been taken away from him as some sort of punishment for his crimes. He also began to understand that it was nobody's fault but his own that Christine had feared him and turned to the Vicomte. His temper certainly had frightened her. Erik shuddered at the memory of their first time together in his lair. Christine had taken off his mask and he had thrown her to the ground and raged at her. Of course he had acted mostly on instinct and had not intended to hurt her, but he could not deny that he very nearly had injured her that day.

Erik also understood now how embarrassing it must have been for Christine that he had pushed so hard for her to get starring roles. While there was no doubt that she had been fully capable to handle such roles, it certainly could not have been easy for her to owe her success to a blackmailer's favoritism. For the first time he began to think about possible consequences of his actions for Christine. Had people given her a hard time because of his ill-guided attempts to promote her? Had she been the target of gossip? Had her colleagues wondered why exactly the Opera Ghost had taken such an interest in her? What would it have felt like for her to stand on that stage next to Carlotta and see the prima donna humiliated by his shenanigans, croaking like a toad in front of a full house?

And then Buquet. Erik knew that Buquet had been dangerous, and that it had been imperative to stop the stalker and get rid of him while there still was time, but he now had to admit that the timing of Buquet's death could not have been any worse. After the stupid notes he had sent to everybody and their sister threatening that a "disaster beyond your imagination" would occur, should they ignore his demands, it was obvious that Christine, like everybody else, would have thought that he had killed Buquet on purpose, thus causing the disaster announced in his notes. It really was no surprise that Christine had been scared of him then and turned to the Vicomte. And Erik, in his jealous frenzy, had never bothered to explain the situation to her. If there ever had been a chance to win her heart and her trust back, he had missed it, wallowing in self-pity and jealousy.

When Erik thought of Christine now, his heart still ached, and he still winced at the thought of her together with the Vicomte. The fact that she was probably married by now, caused Erik no little discomfort. But when he now thought of her, he always wished that one day she might be able to forgive him, for now he understood that despite all his love for her, he had hurt her and wronged her.

Xxxx

One day passed like another, and a few weeks later Erik finally reached Rome. It was summer now and the days were long. Erik therefore waited at the outskirts of the city till it got dark and only then did he dare enter it. Fortunately, his hair had grown rather long over the past few months, so he could pull it into the forehead and conceal his mask a bit. He had also developed a habit of moving in a way that anybody he addressed would see his left profile. In candlelight that was enough to hide his mask and the deformity underneath. Still, Erik was uncomfortable at the thought of going to the bank in the morning. He feared being stared at by a bank clerk or being asked embarrassing questions.

Fortunately, Erik knew the city very well. Nothing much had changed in the more than fifteen years that he had been away. It did not take him long to find the little piazza, where the bank he had business with, was located. He had hoped that the bank would open fairly early, but to his dismay, a note on the door informed him that opening hours were from 9 a.m. to 12 noon and from 4 p.m. to 8 p.m.

Erik swore under his breath. What should he do till 9 a.m.? He did not have money to pay for a room at even the cheapest inn and he could not wait in front of the bank for hours or the carabinieri would arrest him for loitering. He would therefore have to walk around the neighborhood for the next few hours, with César in tow, and he would have to make sure not to draw attention to himself. Erik sighed and took César's reins in his right hand. That way, whenever he encountered somebody, he could try and hide his mask in the stallion's mane.

After a few hours of walking around, Erik was feeling exhausted. César was not exactly alert either. They had not slept in over a day and neither had eaten much the past few days. Erik was planning on buying some provisions once he would have successfully withdrawn his money from the bank. Shortly before seven o'clock, the streets became alive. People were getting ready to go to work, farmers from the nearby villages were driving into the city to sell their produce at the Roman markets, children started to play in the streets. Erik was getting nervous. He was not used to so much activity around him. The thought of having to endure almost two more hours in the streets before the bank opened, scared him. At the same time he was feeling more and more weary. The lack of food and sleep was taking its toll on him. He was now almost mechanically walking, putting one foot in front of the other, concentrating on staying awake long enough till he had his money and was out of the large town again. Then he would rest and buy something to eat.

"Erik!" The sound of his own name woke Erik from his lethargy. While it was not entirely impossible that somebody else out here in this particular little street was called Erik, he knew that that name was not common in Italy at all. What startled him even more was the sound of the voice who had called that name. Had he been daydreaming? Of days long gone by? If so, it was best to go on as if nothing had happened.

Erik had barely made a few more steps when a hand grasped his shoulder and spun him around. "Erik, mio caro ragazzo," said the old man, whose hand held Erik's shoulder, "sei finalmente tornato!" (Erik, my dear boy, you have finally returned). Erik gazed into the smiling old face. A wave of dizziness washed through him when recognition set in and Erik collapsed.

Xxxx

When Erik came to, he was lying on a sofa in a neat little room. He felt weak and dizzy and his head swam. He closed his eyes for a moment to get his bearings. He was still trying to remember what had happened and to figure out where he was and how he had come here, when a hand landed on his shoulder once again and the voice that had called to him in the street, spoke again. "Ti sei risvegliato, Erik?" (Are you awake?)

Erik looked to the side and saw the old man, who had addressed him in the street, sitting in a comfortable chair next to the sofa, smiling at him. Erik was confused. He was convinced that he must still be unconscious, dreaming, so improbable did it seem to him that this particular person might be actually glad to see him.

He glanced at the old man again, then his lips formed a name. "Giovanni." Erik's voice was barely more than a whisper. The old man grinned. "I see you have not forgotten your old master," he smiled. Erik nodded in agreement, which sent another wave of dizziness through him. "Stay put, son," Giovanni admonished him. "Fortunately il dottore Marenone was nearby when you collapsed in the street. He gave you a quick check-over once we had brought you here and assured me that you will be fine." Erik felt like Giovanni was talking to him in a foreign language. Why on earth had the man bothered to help him and seemed positively happy to see Erik again?

"You are not really ill," Giovanni continued his explanation, "just very exhausted. You need to rest and to eat regularly, the doctor said, then you should be as good as new in a few days. The same goes for that black horse of yours, by the way," Giovanni added. Erik looked up. He had completely forgotten about his loyal companion. "César?" he whispered.

Giovanni laughed. "Is that the stallion's name?" he asked. "What a fitting, noble name, Cesare! Don't worry about him. He is in the stable with my horses, being fed and cared for. In a few days, when you are strong enough, you may go and visit him," Giovanni promised. "By then, he will probably have recovered as well."

While Erik was glad to hear that César was being taken care of, he still was at a total loss what was going on here. How could Giovanni treat him like a dear friend, when he had caused his daughter's death? Erik made another attempt to get some information. "But why…" he rasped, "Luciana.." He bit his lip. His weakness and dizziness be damned. He was not able to formulate a coherent question.

Giovanni seemed to understand Erik anyway. "We'll talk about everything, once you are stronger," he explained. "All you need to know now, is that I am glad to see you again after such a long time." He patted Erik's shoulder. "I will get you something to eat now, and then we'll put you to bed so that you can sleep. The most important thing now is for you to get well again, everything else can wait."

With these words, Giovanni slipped out of the room, only to return a few minutes later with a bowl of steaming minestrone. "I remember that you used to like this soup," Giovanni said, handing the bowl to Erik. "Now eat, the doctor suspected it has been a while since your last meal." Erik managed to sit up and began to slowly eat the soup. The rich taste of seasoned vegetables, combined with some pasta, was a pleasant change after a piece of stale bread or some uncooked fruit or herbs that had been his diet over the past few weeks.

When Erik had finished the soup, Giovanni took the bowl from him. "You should sleep now," he explained to Erik. "Once you have rested for a few hours, you may have some more soup. For now it is enough. The doctor warned me not to let you have too much food at once. It would not be good for your stomach, which is not used to getting a lot to digest anymore."

Giovanni brought Erik one of his own night shirts and showed him to a guest bedroom. Half an hour later, Erik was sound asleep, while Giovanni thanked God and the "santa Madonna" that they had brought Erik back to him.

Xxxxx

The next day, Erik felt strong enough to get up. Giovanni gave him a disapproving look. "You should stay in bed a few more days, figlio," he admonished Erik. "You need plenty of rest." At his insistence, Erik finally grudgingly lay down on the sofa again.

"Giovanni, please," Erik begged. "I promise, I will be good and rest, but you must explain to me, why you are so happy to see me. After all, Luciana…." His voice trailed, the picture of Luciana's broken body was still as fresh in his mind as it had been the moment of the tragedy.

Giovanni's eyes darkened and for a brief moment the pain of losing his beloved daughter surfaced at their very bottom . Then he composed himself and smiled at Erik encouragingly. "It was not your fault," he said. "It was a tragedy. I am at least as much to blame for what happened as you are, if not more so. After all, I had told you to show her your face, you only did what I had asked you to do." Giovanni sighed. "I do not know what I hoped to achieve by letting her see you. Maybe I thought she would then leave you alone." He squeezed Erik's hand. "Did you think I had not realized how her advances affected you? You were a young man barely past puberty then. It was only natural that you had .. needs, urges. I know how hard it must have been to keep your hands off her, after all, no matter how much she is offering herself, one does not ravage one's master's daughter."

Erik thought back. In a way Giovanni was right. He had desired Luciana, had dreamed of losing himself in the pleasure of her body, but what really had kept him from taking her was the fear of rejection, the knowledge that she never ever would even remotely consider allowing him to touch her in any way, if she knew what he looked like.

"But I think, in a way, I hoped, she would not mind," Giovanni continued. "I hoped she would like you despite your face, and that…" he stopped, unsure how to continue. "I have no son," he finally mumbled. "But there was this young man that had all the qualities I would have wanted a son to have," Giovanni was almost speaking to himself now. "I wanted it so much that I began to think that maybe Luciana would want it, too." Erik gave him a blank look. What exactly was Giovanni talking about?

"I wanted you and Luciana…" Giovanni stuttered, "I hoped that one day…" Erik gasped. That thought had never occurred to him. "You wanted me and Luciana to get married?" he asked, surprised. Giovanni nodded. "I knew that she was obsessed with you, that she wanted you, and deep down I hoped that she really cared about you and that your face would not matter to her. That's why I told you to take your mask off, to show her your face. I hoped that she would be able to accept you, and that then you would be convinced of the sincerity of her feelings and that… my favorite daughter would give me the son I wanted. The son-in-law that could take over my business one day and continue my life's work, carry on the tradition, and raise grandchildren to carry on after us."

He paused, exhausted. "Erik, I tried to force destiny's hand. I tried to make her accept you, and as a consequence, I lost her. And when I turned away from my child's broken body to tell you that it was my fault and not yours, you were gone, and I could not tell you anymore, that no matter how hard Luciana's loss hit me, I cannot and will never blame it on you. Luciana was not the only person I lost that day," he continued, sadly. "I also lost the man that I had trained to be my heir and successor."


	9. Confession

Chapter 8 – Confession

Erik gasped. "You thought of me as your successor?" he whispered. "You would have given me your daughter? Me?" He stared at Giovanni, incredulous. "You would not have minded that I am a freak, a monster with only half a face?"

Giovanni gently pushed Erik back onto the sofa. "Calm down, Erik," he said. "You promised to rest. If you get so agitated, we have to continue this conversation tomorrow." Erik sighed and settled back onto the cushion, trying to appear as calm as possible. Giovanni smiled. "That's better, son," he said. Then he looked Erik straight into the eyes and, putting an emphasis on every single word, he continued. "I understand that you see your face as a curse, Erik. But your face is not you. It is only one tiny part of you. You have a lot to offer, and you possess many qualities. You are an intelligent, gifted man, you work hard, you are creative with an eye for aesthetic values, which is important in my profession, you are a caring, compassionate man."He paused, glancing at Erik, to see what kind of impression these words had made. "In short," he finally added, "I do not have a daughter to offer to you anymore, but my business still needs a successor. If you wanted to stay this time, work with me as you did before, and take over in a few years, when I will be too old, you would make me a very happy man."

Erik closed his eyes. He was overwhelmed. Giovanni cared for him, appreciated his talents and his work, wanted him to be his successor and would even have accepted him into his family if things had gone differently. Giovanni's offer was tempting. Erik knew Giovanni's business, the company had a good reputation and the many satisfied customers usually recommended Giovanni to others. He normally had several building projects going on at the same time. If Erik could find work in such a prestigious company, he could certainly get his life back on track easily. Also, with Giovanni as his employer, he would not have to face any problems because of his mask. But could he accept this offer?

Erik shook his head. "Giovanni," he sighed. "You have no idea who you are about to hire. I am not the person you knew. Too much has happened in the meantime. You would never consider helping me if you knew everything." He shuddered at the thought of the many murders he had committed in Persia, as well as his more recent crimes in Paris.

Giovanni just smiled at him. He realized that Erik was deeply shaken and that something burdened his young friend. "Tell me," he encouraged Erik. "Talking about it sometimes helps."

Erik nodded. "I will tell you the truth," he whispered. "But I warn you, it will be terrible." He paused, before adding, almost to himself, "I lost myself. I committed terrible crimes and was proud of my achievements." Slowly, hesitantly, Erik began to talk about everything he had experienced since he had left Rome after Luciana's death. He did not embellish anything, did not make excuses. He saw that Giovanni gasped in shock when he described the rosy hours of Mazenderan, but he also noticed that the old man's eyes softened when he spoke of Nadir and his young son Reza.

"I finally went home," Erik stated, "to Paris, and it turns out, I arrived just in time to help Antoinette sort things out after her husband's death." Giovanni nodded. He remembered that Erik had told him before about the young girl, barely older than himself, who had helped him escape from the gypsies. "But once her affairs were settled, and she did not need me anymore," Erik continued, "I felt so empty. My life had no purpose anymore." He shuddered at the memory of the deep depression he had suffered from at that time. He realized now that deep down he had known how terrible the deeds he had committed were and that the memory of his countless victims had haunted his subconscious even then.

Giovanni listened attentively. As shocked as he had been to hear about Erik's time in Persia, he had also noticed that Erik had a hard time living with those memories. He noticed how Erik loathed himself for having committed those atrocities, how much the knowledge of his crimes pained his friend and he knew that the warm-hearted boy he had known so many years ago, was still there, inside the full-grown murderer. He put a comforting hand on Erik's shoulder, to show his sympathy to the trembling man in front of him.

"Then, Heaven sent me an angel," Erik continued. His voice had changed. It now held so much tenderness and adoration and his eyes were shining bright at the memory, that Giovanni had no doubts what Erik was talking about.

"You met a woman?" he softly asked Erik. Of course, it was only natural that sooner or later the boy would fall in love, and since Erik described the lady in question as an angel, Giovanni assumed she might at least have had some kind of feelings for his young friend.

Erik shook his head. "No, not yet. When I first met her, she was only seven years old. She had just lost her father and had been accepted into the corps de ballet as a student. She lived in the dormitories of the Opera Populaire and Antoinette had taken her under her wings." He then proceeded to explain his role as the Angel of Music, and one by one he confessed everything else to Giovanni, his dealings as the Opera Ghost, his jealousy of the new patron, his attempts to force Christine to love him, and at last he revealed that he was a wanted criminal in France and had left his home country to escape the authorities. "You see, Giovanni," he finally added, "I am not the kind of person you would want to associate with. I am a murderer, a blackmailer, a hunted madman, in addition to being a freak."

Giovanni was deeply moved by Erik's story. Despite all the horrors Erik had described, Giovanni realized the desperation and self-loathing that permeated the whole narration. Erik obviously regretted his crimes now, and he also understood now why the young woman he loved so much had turned away from him. Giovanni was also quite certain that Erik's feelings for his protégée were genuine. It was obvious that Erik still loved her deeply despite the fact that she had preferred another suitor over him. In Giovanni's opinion, a person capable of such strong, selfless love, was not an evil person at heart.

Erik uncertainly glanced at Giovanni awaiting his verdict. Surely, now that he knew the truth about him, the old mason would turn away from him, ask him to leave his house immediately, or even worse, deliver him to the authorities.

After a long pause, Giovanni began to speak. "We all carry our burden," he said, "and we all are haunted by the memories of our past misdeeds. Not one day has passed since Luciana's death without me regretting that I told you to show her your face. I will forever have to live with the knowledge that I indirectly caused my daughter's death. I also drove you away and in doing this I may be indirectly responsible for what you did in Persia. None of that would have happened if you had stayed here."

Erik looked up, as hope began to rise in his heart. "You do not condemn me for what I did?" he asked cautiously. "You do not turn your back on me, the murderer?"

Giovanni shook his head. "I cannot condemn you any more than I condemn myself," he said. "I can see that you regret your actions, that the memories of those crimes will haunt you for the rest of your life. And I can also see that despite everything your heart is still capable of compassion. The story about the boy Reza confirmed this. And despite everything, your heart is still full of love. I can see that the love you still feel for your protégée is very strong and yet so selfless. You set her free, so that she could pursue her dream. She had agreed to be your wife in order to save her fiancé, yet you did not want her sacrifice. Erik, all I can see, is that despite everything, you are still a decent man. You just told me that you want to start anew. If you are serious about it, you have my full support. I am still willing to employ you. You can live with me here, and if you want to, you may still take over my business in a few years, when I will be too old."

When Giovanni ended his speech, tears were streaming down Erik's face. "You would do this?" he stammered. "You would help me start a new life, even though you know about all my crimes? You would employ the murderer?"

Giovanni nodded. "I want to employ the man who has lost his way but tries to find it again. I want to make sure the boy that never had a chance at a normal life will finally be given that chance." He paused and smiled at Erik. "And I want my former genius apprentice to become my right-hand man and successor, so that my business will be in good hands once I will not be able to run it myself any longer." He paused again before adding, "I have been very lonely those past few years, Erik, ever since Luciana died and you left me. I also have a feeling that you are just as lonely as I am. We both lost the person we loved most in this world. If you stayed with me, neither of us would be quite as lonely anymore. As for you, you would be able to earn your money in a respectable way, to make a living for yourself. As my protégé you would be respected even with your mask."

When Erik did not respond immediately, Giovanni continued. "You do not have to decide right away, Erik. I am not rushing you. Whatever your decision, you may stay at my house till you and your stallion have regained your strength, or longer, if you want to. And even if you do not take me up on my offer, I want you to know that you will always be welcome here."

Erik was overwhelmed. He had always admired his former master. He had had no idea, though, how much Giovanni appreciated and, yes, loved him. That the old mason still wanted him to join his business, even though he knew about Erik's criminal past, seemed like a miracle to Erik. Was it possible? Could he take the hand that offered him help? He still hesitated.

"What about your other daughter?" he finally asked. "What would Angela say if you hired me again? Even if you do not tell her about my crimes, will she not blame me for her sister's death?"

Giovanni shook his head. "I rarely see her," he confessed. "She has her own family, and they have moved to Naples. She will not care one way or another. It's not as if she and Luciana had been close anyway. Also, she knows that I am convinced that Luciana's death was my fault, and she knows how much I missed you. Come to think of it, she might be glad to hear you are back."

Erik closed his eyes. Another reason to refuse the tempting offer had just been eliminated. Was there a future for him after all? Could he stay here in Rome with Giovanni, work for a living and make money with something he was good at and actually enjoyed doing? He was about to tell Giovanni he would be staying, when yet another thought assaulted him.

"But what if," Erik began uncertainly. "If the Vicomte's men somehow learn about my whereabouts and hunt me down here? What kind of consequences would it have for you and your daughter's family that you have employed a criminal?"

Giovanni was touched. Erik's concern for him and his family showed him beyond any doubt that he had not misjudged his young friend. Erik was serious about starting anew, his desire to leave his criminal past behind was genuine.

"Well," Giovanni continued, "that might depend on your status here in Rome." He paused for effect. "If you work here as a French fugitive with no valid documents, they could easily arrest you and take you back to France where you'd have to face charges. If, on the other hand, you were an Italian citizen, member of a respected family, with all sorts of documents to prove your identity, they would be hard-pressed to prove you are the criminal they are seeking." He smiled at Erik. "In that case, I dare say, you would be perfectly safe and anybody raising charges against you would be in trouble."

Erik gazed at him. He was at a total loss, what Giovanni was talking about. "You know pretty well that I do not have any documents of any sorts," he explained to Giovanni. "Not even ones that prove I am a French citizen, even less so any claims at Italian citizenship…" his voice trailed. "Unless you suggest I get myself forged documents…" Erik sighed. He did not want to start his new life with a forgery, but he was aware that he might have to do just that. His lack of documents was a serious problem that he had not even considered so far.

Giovanni grinned. "Forgery! Gran Dio, no! Is that all you can come up with, Erik? And I thought you were a bright, intelligent young man!" He shook his head in mock indignation. "There is a perfectly legal, very simple way for you to obtain Italian citizenship and valid documents. It would also gain you access into Roman society."

Erik still had not the slightest idea what Giovanni was talking about and said so. Giovanni obviously enjoyed the situation. He continued to tease Erik, by talking on without revealing his plan yet. "We would not even have to lie," he said, "we could just tell people that you and Luciana had been sort of close, don't protest, Erik, I know that she wanted you, and you certainly did desire her. But as I was saying, if we do tell people that the two of you had been close, we might be able to give the impression that you have always been around, without actually saying so. You certainly have been a friend of the family for a long time."

Erik nodded. He understood Giovanni's argument. If they told neighbors or customers this simplified version of the truth, most people would assume that Erik had always lived in Rome, which might be helpful, should de Chagny's men one day come hunting for him there. If honorable citizens claimed he had always lived here it would be difficult for the French authorities to prove he had been in Paris all those years threatening the managers of an opera house. Things would definitely be even easier for him if he could prove that he was an Italian citizen.

"But how would this help me to gain Italian citizenship?" Erik asked. "Even if I am considered a long-term acquaintance of yours, without proper documents I will be on shaky ground."

Giovanni thought by himself that the boy must really be extremely weak and exhausted if he had not figured out by now what he was talking about. Really, the solution was so simple. How could Erik not think of it himself?

"There is a very easy way for you to become an Italian citizen," he began again. "All you need to do is agree to … " he paused for effect, glancing at Erik to see the younger man's reaction to his suggestion. "To let me adopt you," he finished. "As my son and heir."

Erik's jaw dropped. He was speechless for a moment. "You would do that?" he finally asked. "You would still accept me into your family, even though you know everything about me?"

Giovanni put his hand on Erik's shoulder. "I always wanted a son like you, Erik. That's why I hoped so much that you and Luciana…" The memory of his daughter's tragic death overwhelmed him and he could not finish his sentence. After a short pause he continued. "I still want you as my son, not despite everything you told me, but because of it. I sympathize with you, since I understand what it means to live with the burden of guilt. Luciana's broken body will haunt me till the end of my days. But I also know that despite everything, deep-down you are a decent person. You are capable of compassion and of love, and what is more, you are capable of great personal sacrifices out of love. You did not say so, but from what you told me, you are trying to become a better man, one that she… your Christine… could be proud of."

Erik was sobbing by now. "It must be so terrible for her to know that her childhood confidant and teacher is a murderer," he cried. "I so want to become a person that one would not have to be ashamed of knowing. A person that she would feel was not completely unworthy of the trust she once placed in me. A person that she might be able to forgive for his past misdeeds because of the way he has redeemed himself. Even though I'll never see her again and she'll never know, it will mean a lot to me to become worthy of her former trust and friendship."

Giovanni pulled Erik close. "Sh, son," he tried to comfort the crying man. "You are on the best way to becoming such a person. I will be proud to help you. So if you do not object, in two or three days, once you have regained your strength, we'll go to the sindaco (=mayor) and sign the necessary documents that will make you my son."

Erik sobbed into Giovanni's shirt, but now he was crying mostly because he was so touched by Giovanni's offer. "I would be honored to be your son," he finally stammered. "Your support means a lot to me."

Giovanni beamed. "It is settled then, figlio," he said. "You will soon be officially my son, and then I'll have to rename my company. What do you think about Giovanni Nardini & son," he smiled. "I think that name has a great ring to it!"

Erik nodded, tears still running down his cheeks. "I have never had a father before," he confessed. "Mine died before I was born. But if I could choose one, it would be you." And after a moment of hesitation he added softly, "mio padre." (my father) Giovanni's whole face lit up at this word and he embraced his new son, eager to show him the extent of his love.


	10. Confrontation

Chapter 9 – Confrontation

Raoul was in a bad mood. First, both he and Christine had fallen ill thanks to their adventure in the Phantom's cold, underground lake and he could not see his fiancée for days, then, when she was finally well enough to have visitors and he was allowed to see her, she did not seem to want him to kiss her. He shook with fury when he remembered how Christine had fought him, calling for Mme. Giry. Since when was his Little Lotte so prudish that she needed a chaperone while kissing her fiancé? She had never before had any objections to kissing.

Raoul suddenly paled as he remembered the night of the fire. She even had kissed that monster. Having to watch that scene had driven him nearly crazy with jealousy, but he had also been thoroughly disgusted. How could Christine do something as low and revolting as kissing that repulsive, ugly man? It was bad enough that he was a murderous psychopath, though if he at least looked like a normal person, Raoul might have understood. But this freak, this monstrosity! If that aberration of humanity had pulled Christine close and forced a kiss on her, Raoul might still have accepted it, but it had been her, his Little Lotte, who had initiated the kiss. She had had no problems touching her perfect lips to his disfigured ones, and Raoul was not so sure she had not done more than that, opened her lips for that abomination, allowed him to taste her mouth and touch tongues with her.

A knock on the door brought him back to reality. "Enter," he barked, still agitated at the thought of his bride kissing that revolting face, touching the deformed cheek and smiling at that monster. His mood did not improve when Mme. Giry entered the room. He did not quite trust that woman. Sure, she had helped him find Christine and that… thing, but he also knew that there was a certain connection between her and his rival and he had a feeling as if Mme. Giry had approved of the freak's courting of Christine.

"Ah, Mme. Giry," Raoul forced himself to at least try and be polite. "Has Christine calmed down? Has she come to her senses?" Mme. Giry was shocked at the tone of his voice. Never before had she had the impression that he could be anything but charming. Now he sounded positively annoyed and… she could not quite place it, but she definitely disliked his current attitude.

"Please, Monsieur le Vicomte," she began hesitatingly. She could see that he felt rejected by Christine and that he did not take this rejection lightly. She began to fear that freeing Christine from this engagement might be harder than she had expected. "Christine is calm now," she continued, "and if you also feel calm enough to discuss some important issues with her, Christine would like to talk to you."

Raoul smirked. "So she realizes now that it is not wise to upset her fiancé?" he asked. "Is she afraid that I might send her packing if she does not apologize? She should be glad I still took her back after her scandalous behavior with that monster, both on stage and in his lair," he growled. "She should have been pleased that I still want to kiss those lips that she has soiled by kissing that hideous monstrosity."

Mme. Giry winced inwardly when she heard the Vicomte talk like that about her foster brother. She wanted very much to tell the young man her opinion about his attitude towards Erik, but she held her tongue for Christine's sake. It would not help their cause if she upset him even more.

"Christine just asked me to let you know that she wants to talk to you, Monsieur," she stated calmly. "But please, keep in mind that she has been very ill and is still recovering," she added.

Raoul stared at her. Had this woman just implied he might treat the poor, convalescent girl harshly? Who did she think he was? A monster like this freak of theirs? Did she believe all men were like this murdering psychopath?

Once again Raoul thanked his good luck that had freed him of this rival by letting the monster perish in the fire he himself had started. That night gendarmes had been posted all around the Opera Populaire, every single entrance had been under surveillance and Raoul was therefore reasonably certain that the Opera Ghost had not been able to escape the flames, which meant that Christine was now finally his and his alone.

"I won't upset her," he therefore retorted, somewhat condescendingly. "And even if I treated her anything less than amiably, she should be able to handle it," he continued, his voice sounding bitter. "After all, she is used to dealing with criminal monsters." With these words he turned on his heels and left the room.

Mme. Giry looked after him. She was concerned. The young man obviously expected Christine to be somewhat flattered that somebody like him showed an interest in her. When Christine had not gratefully thrown herself into his arms at their first encounter, when he came to her dressing room after her debut, his ego had suffered. Unused to being ignored he had decided that he simply had to have her and had fought for her with all means he could think of. Christine's disappointment in Erik when the latter had killed Buquet had worked to the Vicomte's advantage, as had Erik's decision to stay away from Christine for months. But the Vicomte's elaborate plan of ridding himself of his rival the night of "Don Juan Triumphant" had somehow backfired. By using Christine as bait he had started the series of events that ultimately had made Christine realize which of her two suitors she really loved. Raoul de Chagny was about to learn that sometimes even a nobleman will have to accept "no" for an answer, and Mme. Giry had a feeling as if he might not enjoy that experience.

She folded her hands in prayer. "Holy Virgin, help my Christine," she prayed. "Let her find the right words to make him understand, and if he really loves her, give him the strength to let her go."

Xxxx

When Raoul entered Christine's room he found his fiancée sitting in bed, supported by pillows. She looked terribly thin and pale, but her eyes radiated a certain determination. Her current frailty added to her appeal, and Raoul rushed to her bedside to embrace her.

Christine did not return his hug and turned he face sideways, to prevent him from kissing her. She forced a smile on her face and weakly pointed to a chair. "Thank you for coming, Raoul," she began. "Please take a seat. Mme. Giry has told you that I need to talk to you?"

Raoul nodded, slightly annoyed. She was escaping him again, evading his attempts at intimacy. "Is it really necessary to sit over there?" he asked. "Why can I not sit on the bed next to you and hold you, while we talk? I understand that you want to discuss our wedding and we will definitely have to fix a date..."

"Please," Christine interrupted him weakly, her courage almost gone. She had not expected this to be easy, and she had to summon all her strength and determination to go on. "Sit down Raoul," she asked him once again, indicating the chair which would put him at a safe distance.

Grudgingly, the young Vicomte complied. "Better now?" he asked jokingly, once he was seated, trying to play the perfect, docile fiancé. Christine smiled. "Much better." She felt relieved. Raoul had accepted her desire to keep a certain distance. Maybe this would not be quite as difficult as she had feared.

"Raoul, you know that you are my dearest friend," she began hesitantly. "We have known each other for a long time, we share happy childhood memories. Those days by the sea will forever be dear to my heart, nothing will ever change that."

Raoul was losing his patience. What was the purpose of reminding him of those days long gone by, when they had been innocent children with no real understanding of life? "Of course, Little Lotte," he interrupted her. "Those were wonderful days, but they are in the past, and they were just the beginning. These days laid the foundation for our love which soon will find its culmination in our marriage. Our future is about to begin. I take it, you want to fix a date?"

Christine shook her head. She felt discouraged again. She was terribly afraid of how Raoul would react to her next words. "No, Raoul," she whispered, looking up at him to see how he was taking her news. "I am sorry," she murmured, "I know this must come as a surprise to you, I mean, I do not want to hurt you, and I still like you as my friend…" Christine interrupted herself. She realized that she did not make any sense and that her fingers were nervously playing with the blanket.

"What are you trying to tell me?" Raoul's voice had lost its charming quality and suddenly had an edge to it. "Surely you cannot mean what I think you are saying?"

Christine sighed. "Please Raoul," she begged. "Don't be mad at me. I certainly do not want to upset you or cause you pain, but," she took a deep breath, before continuing. "I cannot marry you," she whispered.

Raoul stared at her as if she had lost her mind. "What do you mean, you cannot marry me?" he barked. "You are my fiancée, we are engaged, you promised to marry me."

Christine trembled. Yes, she had accepted his proposal, had promised to marry him, share with him one love, one lifetime. But their engagement had been a secret one, they had not made the announcement yet. Some people probably had guessed, but in her opinion calling off this engagement should not be too awkward for either her or Raoul. Why did he now sound as if she would have to marry him? Surely he could not force her to keep her promise when she did not want to marry him anymore? Why would he want a wife that loved somebody else?

"I mean that I do not love you," Christine mumbled weakly. "At least not the way a wife should love her husband. I thought so once, but I was mistaken. We would both be very miserable if we married. We were childhood sweethearts and had that dream of marrying when we would be grown up, and I still consider you my friend, but love…" Christine's eyes suddenly took on a dreamy look, when she remembered having been in her angel's arms at the end of their duet. "Love is something different."

"It's him!" Raoul shouted at her. "Even in death he has you under his spell!" Christine visily paled. Did Raoul know something about her angel's fate that he had kept from Mme. Giry? Had Erik been captured or killed after all?

"My angel… is dead?" she whispered in shock. Raoul snorted. "Angel! How can you still call him angel after all he did? But yes, the monster is dead. You need not fear him anymore. He has no power over you anymore. The sooner you forget him, the better. And since he is out of the way, we can get married soon. When would you like to marry me, Lotte?"

Christine bit her lip. The thought that her beloved angel might be dead after all filled her with almost physical pain. Was it possible? Had the mob or the gendarmes caught him after all? But if so, how could his death have been kept a secret?

"How?" she finally murmured. "How did it happen?"

Raoul smirked. "He perished in the flames of the Opera Populaire," he announced. "We had all exits guarded, he never made it out. He got roasted alive by the fire he had caused himself."

Christine closed her eyes to hide her relief. Raoul was mistaken, her angel was alive after all, for she knew for sure that he had escaped the fire, had talked to Mme. Giry at her house. "I see," she finally said, trying to sound composed and calm.

Raoul stood and walked towards her, to embrace her. "Since he cannot harm us anymore there is no reason why we should wait," he said, reaching for Christine. "So let's fix the date now."

Christine panicked. "No!" she shrieked. "No, Raoul, I told you, I cannot marry you, I do not love you that way!"

The Vicomte stared at her. "Where does this sudden realization come from?" he asked angrily. "When did you decide you did not love me? Was it when that monster held you in his arms? When he practically ravished you on stage in front of a full house? When you kissed that disgusting freak? For it's him, right? The reason why you do not want to marry me?"

Christine nodded. "Yes," she said feebly. "I love my angel. I was not aware of my feelings, Raoul, you must believe me. I did not deliberately make you a promise that I cannot keep in order to hurt you. I thought I was in love with you."

Raoul was getting really upset. He had gone to such great lengths to get rid of his rival, and now that that abomination was dead, and he had finally hoped to win the young prima donna, all he had done should have been in vain? She was still not going to marry him?

"I told you he is dead," he rasped. "You'd better forget him as quickly as possible. Even if you think you loved him better than me, he is gone, but I am still here. And I am still willing to marry you, although you have prostituted yourself with him on stage that night and made me watch you kiss this… thing with passion. You should be glad I still want you!"

Christine shuddered. She had suspected that Raoul's interest in her had mostly been sparked by the fact that she was not really available. Even though she herself had not been aware of it then, Raoul must have instinctively sensed the existence of a luckier rival right from the start. Erik's machinations had made it easy for Raoul to convince the authorities that they would free the world at large of a dangerous individual by trying to hunt him down and kill him. Christine herself had not been too important to Raoul. He had not hesitated using her – the woman he supposedly loved - as bait to bring down his rival. He had deliberately put her at risk. True, he had come after her, but he had not really been of any help to her. If she had been in real danger, his rescue attempt would not have achieved anything. In fact, it had been her who had rescued him.

"Please, Raoul," Christine tried again. "The engagement is not public yet, it will not cause any scandal if we break off. And even if that were the case, you could blame it all on me. I do not care what people think of me."

Raoul watched her pensively. "Why do you not want to marry me?" he asked. "The monster is dead. You cannot marry him. Assuming you could marry a murderer if he were still alive…"

Christine summoned all her strength. Her voice was decisive and clear when she spoke again. "I am well aware that I cannot marry my angel," she said, putting an emphasis on every single word. "But that does not mean that I will replace him and marry you – or anybody else, for that matter. I want to grieve him, to cherish his memory, to remain faithful to him." She paused before continuing, "I promised myself to him and kissed him. I will always consider myself his fiancée now."

Raoul sneered. "You were my bride first. You had no right to promise yourself to him. You were not a free woman, you were bound to me. Still you had no qualms betraying me, going as far as kissing that thing." He shuddered at the memory of that scene. "I therefore expect you to do the same now the other way round. If you like to think of yourself as this monster's fiancée, betray him now with me just the same as you betrayed me with him."

Christine glanced at the door. Where was Mme. Giry? The ballet mistress had promised to come to her rescue should the confrontation with Raoul take too long.

"_He_ did not want to force me," she whispered. "_He_ loved me enough to let me go, because he thought I would be better off with you. Can you do the same? Will you be able to let me go, or will you force me against my will? Do you love me as much as he did?"

Raoul was suddenly very pale. Christine's words had hit a nerve. He realized he would lose either way. If he let her go, he would lose his fiancée, but if he forced her to marry him against her will, he would admit that his rival's love had been deeper, stronger and less selfish.

"Go," he finally croaked. "I will call Mme. Giry, I guess you will want to stay with her. She can help you pack. Once you are ready let me know, my carriage will ring you to her home. But, Christine," he admonished, "once you leave this house, all ties between us will be cut. There will be no way back for you. I will not support you financially or help you find a job of any kind. Once you leave this house, we will be like complete strangers."

Christine sighed. "I understand," she murmured. "I wish we could still have remained friends, if for no other reason then for the sake of our childhood together, but I understand why you would prefer a clean cut."

Raoul turned towards the door. He was angry. He had lost her to the memory of a ghost, to somebody he considered far beneath himself, even despised. He wanted nothing more than to leave, not to see her ever again.

Christine followed him with her eyes. "Good-bye, Raoul," she whispered. She had lost a dear friend, but she had regained her freedom. What would Erik say if he knew that she was free again – for him?


	11. Planning

Chapter 10 – Planning

When Mme. Giry entered Christine's room a few minutes later, she found her surrogate daughter to be rather agitated. She immediately went to the young woman's bedside and pulled her close.

"The Vicomte just told me that we can go home," she tried to comfort Christine. "So your conversation must have gone well?" Christine shook her head, sobbing. "Oh Mme. Giry, it was awful!" she whimpered. "He said such terrible things about my angel and he got so angry when I told him that I cannot marry him. He said I should marry him anyway, since my angel is gone, and that I have betrayed him, prostituted myself with my angel on stage…"

Mme. Giry was shocked. She would have never expected the Vicomte to insult Christine like that. She rocked her surrogate daughter like a little baby and whispered to her, in order to calm her down. "This is all over now, Christine. We are leaving. I will pack our things, while you rest. Once we are home, all this will be forgotten. Then you can concentrate on getting well again."

Christine knew that Mme. Giry was right. Yet it was not so easy for her to get over the nasty scene she just had had with her former fiancé. "I thought Raoul and I were friends," she sobbed. "But we are no longer. He did not even say good-bye, when he left."

Mme. Giry inwardly cursed the Vicomte for his lack of civility. It would not help Christine, tough, if she showed her anger. "He felt hurt," she therefore tried to explain. "And jealous. Men sometimes act like that, when they feel defeat. Maybe, once he'll have calmed down, he will regret his behavior and the two of you can one day be friends again."

Christine nodded. She was not entirely convinced, but the thought that Raoul might one day forgive her that she did not love him the way he would have wanted her to, somewhat comforted her. She relaxed and watched Mme. Giry pack their few belongings. Then she let Mme. Giry help her get dressed. She allowed the ballet mistress to wrap a warm blanket around her shoulders on top of her coat.

"The last thing we need now is for you to suffer a relapse," Mme. Giry explained, when she helped Christine into the carriage. Christine looked back one last time to the beautiful old mansion. She had spent some wonderful hours here as Raoul's fiancée and there had been a time when she had thought that she might live a happy life within those walls. She now knew that that would never be possible, not when her heart ached so much for angel. She resolutely turned away from the mansion and looked forward – to her new life which hopefully would eventually lead to her reunion with her beloved angel, Erik.

Xxxxx

The carriage ride was rather taxing for the still convalescent young woman. Upon their arrival Mme. Giry therefore insisted that Christine go to bed immediately and rest. She took it upon herself to explain the latest developments to Meg. The younger Giry was not quite sure what to think of Christine's change of mind. In a way the whole story was terribly romantic, but the thought that Christine might actually prefer the Opera Ghost to that handsome Vicomte frightened her.

"Christine knows him better than you do," Mme. Giry calmly stated. "And I am certain that she is serious about Erik. I would not have supported her otherwise. Do not worry about her. She has made her choice and she knows all the pros and cons herself."

Meg nodded. She knew better than to argue with her mother when the latter sounded as decisive.

Xxxx

The first few days after their move to Mme. Giry's little house, Christine was still very shaken, but under her foster mother's care she soon got stronger – and at the same time more restless.

"I can't sit here all day and rest," she complained. "I need to do something to find my poor angel, go search for him." When Christine talked like that, Mme. Giry always gave her a disapproving look. "What good do you think you will do him if you make yourself sick by getting out of bed too soon?" she usually chided her protégée. "First you need to get well again, then we can try to find Erik."

Christine sighed. Mme. Giry was of course right. She would not get very far in her search if she was not fully recovered, and yet… the memory of her angel's pain when he had sent her away haunted her. "He was so miserable when I last saw him," she argued. "And he probably still is, since he does not know yet. And I…," she paused. "I will not be able to relax before he has not forgiven me for the way I treated him."

Mme. Giry put a comforting arm around Christine. "He will forgive you, since he loves you," she said. "As to his current state of mind," she hesitated. She, too, could not get the memory of Erik's despair the night of the fire, out of her mind. "I know that he is heart-broken right now," she added cautiously, "after all, I saw him myself that night. I wish we could help him, but your health is my first concern at the moment. It won't make him any happier if you collapse. Just focus on the fact that you love him and try to imagine how happy you will make him, when you can finally tell him. Or show him." Christine blushed, memories of kissing her angel filling her whole being with a strong longing.

Xxx

By the end of March Christine was fully recovered. Mme. Giry had no objections anymore to making plans how to find Erik.

"Where do you think he went?" she asked again, probably for the thousandth time within as many minutes. Mme. Giry smiled. "I just told you, I have no idea," she repeated. "He wanted to leave France and the closest borders would be either the English or the Belgian one. He could have gone either way, and he probably did not stop just the moment he had crossed the border. He might have gone on for quite a while. He could be anywhere by now, virtually anywhere."

Christine had to admit that the chances of finding Erik were limited. "There must be a way," she sighed, "we must search for him. Begin somewhere. We must travel around, go from town to town and look for him."

Mme. Giry shook her head. "That's easier said than done," she explained. "Even if we could afford travelling, where would we start? How would we look for him? Unless we run into him in a street by coincidence, how do you expect us to find him?"

Christine's eyes widened in shock. "We cannot afford travelling?" she asked. "Then how can we ever hope to find my poor angel again?"

Mme. Giry sighed. "I wish I knew," she confessed. "If only he had given me the tiniest hint! But een then…" she paused. She did not really like what she had to tell Christine next.

"We are running out of money," she finally continued. "The three of us have been living off our meager savings. We will have to find jobs again, and soon. All three of us."

Christine felt dizzy at that revelation. She definitely had not thought about that. What kind of job could she find now that the Opera lay in ruins? She really had not learned anything other than to sing or dance. Mme. Giry and Meg were in a similar situation. Maybe she could give music lessons? How much money could she possibly make that way? How hard would it be to find enough students? Would Raoul use his influence to prevent some of his friends from hiring her? How long would it take her to save enough money that she could think about traveling, looking for her angel?

"It would take decades," she sighed. "We will never find him."

Mme. Giry did not have too much hope either, but she tried to comfort Christine nevertheless. "I am sure there is a way," she stated, trying to sound more convinced than she felt. "We just have not found it yet. We just have to think about it a bit more. Sooner or later we will figure it out. Or maybe that stubborn guy decides to send us a note after all."

A faint smile played over Christine's features at the memory of all the notes her beloved had been sending around in the past. "I don't think he will do that," she murmured, thinking back to the days at the Opera and his efforts to get her the leading parts. Her angel had adored her voice so much. He had wanted so badly to give her a chance to use her talent to the fullest. He had never missed one of her performances….

"I must sing again," she blurted out. "I must take up my exercises at once. I must try to find employment with an Opera house abroad. Somewhere, anywhere, it does not matter. I cannot imagine him staying away from a performance if I have a leading role. We start somewhere. Once I have been successful in one city, we use my reputation and positive reviews and try to find employment in the next town. That way we can afford to travel, and that way it might be possible to find him."

Mme. Giry gazed at her pensively. The idea was not bad. If Christine were able to find employment in a town outside of France, travel expenses might be paid. If they did not stay in one town too long but kept moving from one town to the next, from one country to the next, sooner or later they might end up in the same place as Erik. She, too, was convinced that Erik would come to a performance in that case. She just was not sure how they would know he was there, and whether or not he would try to contact her.

But they would worry about that once they were on the road. The biggest question right now was, how could Christine land an employment with an Opera house abroad?

Christine continued to develop her idea. "My voice is rusty," she admitted, "I am out of practice, but I have had a great teacher," she continued, proudly. "I am certain I remember all he taught me and all the exercises he made me repeat over and over again. I will be able to get back to my previous level within a few weeks. Once I am sure that I am good enough again, we will think about how I can get in touch with managers of other Opera houses."

Mme. Giry smiled at Christine's enthusiasm. It definitely could not hurt if Christine trained her voice again. She just had no idea how to go about getting Christine hired by another opera company.

"Monsieur Reyer!" Christine suddenly exclaimed. "I do think he once mentioned a friend of his who is chief conductor somewhere. Maybe he could help us? If he recommended me to this colleague of his? If only I can find this first job. Once I get better known, managers might recommend me to other companies. That first step will be the most difficult one."

Mme. Giry grinned. "This may be the solution we have been looking for," she agreed. "Just start with your exercises. Once you are confident that you are ready once again to tackle a major role, we will ask Monsieur Reyer if he can help us with a recommendation. Or maybe even Firmin and André can get us in contact with influential people. If we do succeed and you do get an offer to sing in a city outside France, I will have to accompany you. I might pose as your wardrobe assistant or something like that. You need a chaperone anyway, and if we do reach the town where Erik currently resides, he might be more willing to contact me than you. No, don't get upset," she admonished Christine. "It's just that he does not know about your feelings, might even think that you are still with the Vicomte, which might make him stay away from you despite his love and longing. Me, on the other hand, I am like his sister. If he wanted to find out what you are doing there and why you are on stage instead of just being a Vicomte's wife, he might want to ask me. At least, I hope," she added. "If he has figured out that it was me who sent de Chagny after you, he might have lost his trust in me as well."

Christine beamed. She had finally found a solution to her problem. She was sure that her plan would work. All she had to do right now was retrain her voice and then get hired somewhere. She was aware that wherever she would go first would probably not be the right town. Even if she never stayed anyplace for more than one production, it would take a while to get through all of Europe. She was certain, though, that Erik would know if she were performing anywhere near him. Even if he did not live in one of the larger cities, he would find out if Christine were the star at the local opera, and she could not imagine him staying away then. No, the desire to hear her sing again, to see her, at least from afar, would be too strong. She had to agree with Mme. Giry, though, that he would probably not contact her. He would fear to get hurt by her again, and she could not even blame him for that. She knew that she had hurt him badly. She was quite certain, though, that she would sense Erik's presence in the audience. She had always known when he had watched her, even during rehearsals. This connection would have to help her find him. Once she knew he was in the same town, she might stay on for a second production, in order to have more time to locate him and get in touch with him.

Christine sighed. The way ahead of her was long. She would need a lot of patience before she would see her angel again, but she was convinced that the most difficult part would only come once she had found him. The most difficult bit would be to win back Erik's trust and to convince him of her love.

Xxxx

By mid-May Christine was fairly certain that her voice was back to its previous level of excellence. Mme. Giry also had to admit that the young soprano's technique was flawless, her voice as sweet as ever and that her performance had gained a depth that had been lacking before. Christine had really grown up over the past few months. Love and loss had shaped her, matured her and had added layers to her singing, thus making it even more heartfelt and touching. When Christine now sang Elissa's aria from Chalumeau's "Hannibal", Mme. Giry always had tears in her eyes. Before, Christine had just mastered the song brilliantly, nowshe poured her heart and soul into lines like "there will never be a day when I won't think of you".

One beautiful, warm day in May, Mme. Giry and Christine finally went to see Monsieur Reyer. The old conductor was semi-retired by now. He had saved enough money over his long career that he did not have to work regularly anymore. He did work with a small orchestra on occasion, performing at balls or soirées, but he had no interest of finding employment at a concert hall or theater again.

He was surprised to see the two ladies pay him a visit and even more so, when Christine asked if he could not help her find employment with an Opera company abroad. "Do you even need a job?" he asked incredulously. "Are you not going to get married soon?"

Christine looked down, embarrassed and shook her head. "No," she whispered. "I have no such plans. It was me," she added hastily, when she noticed the old man's scrutinizing gaze. "I broke off the engagement. It is not as you think, he did not abandon me."

Monsieur Reyer exhaled, relieved. He had not been too impressed with the young patron, and for a moment he had suspected that de Chagny might have used the young soprano and then dropped her for a new toy.

"But there are so many memories here, in Paris and all of France," Christine continued. "Here everything reminds me of the past. I need to start anew. In order to do that, I would need employment elsewhere, far away from this city and its memories."

Reyer nodded. He could understand why she would want to leave. "And you have been practicing?" he asked. "Your voice is in good shape, so that I can recommend you in good conscience?"

Christine smiled. "I am willing to sing for you so that you may be able to form an opinion on that yourself."

Monsieur Reyer approached his piano. "Elissa's aria?" he asked. Christine took up position next to him and after the short introduction she sang. "Think of me, think of me fondly.."

Once she had finished, Reyer remained silent for a while. When he finally spoke, he had tears in his eyes. "Mlle. Daaé," he whispered, deeply moved. "I have heard this aria hundreds of times in my long career, but never before like this. You brought the character of Elissa to life with your singing. I felt all her love and all her resignation, knowing that her love was doomed. You do not only have an exceptional voice and a flawless technique, you also have a talent to make the audience sympathize with your character. I will be happy to recommend you to my good friend Alan Stearns, who is chief conductor at the Covent Garden Opera in London. By coincidence I got a letter from him only a few days ago, in which he told me that their current prima donna is pregnant and they will need a new first soprano in a few weeks. I am certain that he will want to hire you, once he has heard you sing like that."


	12. London

Chapter 11 – London

The first week of June Christine received a letter from M. Reyer's friend Mr. Stearns, informing her that upon recommendation of his respected colleague he would be pleased to have her audition for the position of first soprano on Wednesday of the following week. Would she be able to come to London by then?

Christine immediately replied that she and her foster mother, who would act as her wardrobe assistant in case she got hired, were looking forward to meeting him in London next Wednesday. Two days later they left Paris for London.

Once arrived they took residence at a cheap hotel, with the intention of renting a small apartment should Christine get hired, as they both hoped. They used the few days till Christine's audition to do some sightseeing and to start looking for an apartment near the opera house.

Christine was more than a bit nervous on Wednesday morning, when she and Mme. Giry went on their way to Covent Garden to meet with Mr. Stearns. So much depended on her success at this audition! If she could get this job, Christine was fairly confident that she would be able to please the audience and start building up an international reputation for herself, which would help her get around and hopefully eventually be reunited with her angel. If, on the other hand, she failed, this would not only greatly reduce her chances of finding Erik ever again, it would also mean that their financial situation would become precarious.

When Christine gave her name at the stage entrance, she was informed that Mr. Stearns was expecting her, and she and Mme. Giry were immediately lead on the stage. A friendly, elderly man greeted them, introducing himself as Alan Stearns. He asked how his good friend Reyes was doing and after a few minutes of small talk, he mentioned that their next production would be Donizetti's "Lucia di Lammermoor". Had Christine ever performed that role before?

Christine shook her head. "No, at least not the whole part," she confessed. "But my teacher has studied various arias with me, among those the famous 'Mad Scene'," she added. Mr. Stearns seemed pleased. "Excellent," he said, "that aria is actually the trickiest part of Lucia's entire music. If you are already familiar with that one, you should not have any problems with the rest."

Christine smiled. "It's been a while since I last sang it," she confessed, "but I like this particular piece very much and I would love to get a chance to sing that role."

"Would you mind performing it now for me?" Mr. Stearns asked. "You may look at the sheet music to jog your memory, since you say you have not done it recently."

"I would be happy to," Christine retorted, grabbing the score. Mr. Stearns took up his position in the pit and the orchestra began to play the introduction. Christine began to sing.

"Il dolce suono mi colpì di sua voce!  
>Ah! Quella voce m'è qui nel cor discesa!"<p>

(the sweet sound of his voice reached me, ah, this voice descended right into my heart)

Christine could totally identify with Lucia's feelings in that scene. It had been Erik's voice that had first attracted her to him, had filled her heart with joy and a heretofore unknown longing. Oh, how she had dreamed about finding a man just like her angel, how she had always wished he were not an angel, but a real flesh-and-blood being! And when she had been granted her wish she had screwed up so badly. At least she had not made the same mistake as Lucia, had not let herself be tricked into marrying somebody else, and therefore her dream of one day getting married to Erik was a bit more realistic than Lucia's madness induced fantasies of finally tying the knot with her Edgardo.

Still, when she reached the part of the aria, where Lucia imagines her wedding, Christine's voice took on a dreamy quality. How wonderful it would be when she'd finally be reunited with her angel!

"Ardon gl'incense," Christine sang. "Splendon le sacri faci, splendon intorno. Ecco il ministro! Porgi mi la destra, oh lieto giorno! Alfin son tua, alfin sei mio…"

(The incense is burning, the sacred candles are shining brightly all around. Here is the minister, give me your right hand, oh happy day! At last I am yours, at last you are mine…)

She put all her heart into these lines, all her hopes at a reunion with Erik. What a coincidence, she thought, that the name of Lucia's lover also started with an "E", just like her own Erik's.

Christine continued, fully immersed in Lucia's story. She reached the long cadenza, where Lucia's voice alternates with the solo flute and hits higher and higher notes. With perfect, flawless technique she produced one note after the other, each of them equally sweet, following one another seamlessly, bright and shining like pearls on a string.

Christine finished the aria on a high note. The whole auditorium was silent for a few moments, then the musicians and Mr. Stearns started applauding. "This was extraordinary, Miss Daaé," Stearns said. "My good friend Reyer had told me that your technique is perfect and your voice rather exceptional, but that you are able to put so much expression, so much real emotion into your singing, is simply amazing. The role is yours. I would be out of my mind if I did not hire somebody of your talent. Rehearsals start in two weeks. Will you be able to study the rest of the opera by then?"

Christine beamed. This had gone even better than she had expected. She was not just being offered the job, they were enthusiastic about her voice! If the audience reacted the same way, it should not be too difficult finding employment in the next city, once this production's run would be over.

Mr. Stearns then showed Christine to the manager's office, where he introduced her as the new prima donna. "She blew me away with her rendition of Lucia's Mad Scene," he said enthusiastically. "This production will be an enormous success with her in the title role!"

The manager had a rather high opinion of Mr. Stearns' musical expertise and was therefore easily convinced that he had to hire this fairly unknown young soprano. He immediately started drafting Christine's contract. He asked for her personal data, like day and place of birth, names of her parents etc, and was pleasantly surprised to hear that she was Swedish by birth.

"What a coincidence!" he exclaimed. "Another Swedish Nightingale! We can use this reference when we will advertise the new production." Stearns smiled. "I am sure once they have heard Miss Daaé, the audience will wonder if the legendary Jenny Lind was anywhere near as good as she is. Lind may have been as brilliant, but I doubt she could put as much feeling into her singing as Miss Daaé does."

Xxx

The next two weeks were very busy for the two ladies. Mme. Giry rented the apartment they had been looking at and organized their move from the hotel to their new home, while Christine studied the score. In addition to the Mad Scene there was another aria with cabaletta, a long duet with the tenor, duets with the baritone (Lucia's brother) and the basso (the family priest and confidant), plus the famous sextet. She had to learn a lot of new music in a rather short time. Fortunately she was a quick study and there was a lot in Lucia's role that she could relate to. After all, Lucia had lost the love of her life because of somebody's interference just like Christine had. The difference was that in Christine's case a jealous suitor had used her temporary disappointment with Erik to his advantage, while in Lucia's case an ambitious brother had driven a wedge between her and Edgardo.

Christine's thought's returned to her Erik. Was he here in London? Mme. Giry had mentioned that one of the closest borders that he could have headed for the night of the fire had been the Channel. Had he risked boarding a boat to England and being recognized on board? She was not too sure he would have wanted to take that risk. He had probably tried to reach Belgium. She kept telling herself that chances of finding him here in London were minimal and not to be disappointed if he was not here, but deep in her heart she kept hoping that he would be there on opening night, listening to her voice.

Christine smiled. He would be so proud of her! She had remembered everything he had taught her, and she had worked hard to get her voice back in shape. She had managed to get hired for a major starring part without him having to threaten anybody, just because those that had heard her sing had thought she was good enough to deserve a leading role.

Christine was glad that Mme. Giry had advised her to ask for a little bit more money than she had been paid in Paris for her role in "Hannibal". "It is not a good idea to sell yourself cheap," Mme. Giry had said. "And if they don't want to pay you as much, you can always settle for as much as you got at the Populaire and give them the impression that you are willing to make concessions." To her surprise, Stearns had told the manager that she was worth at least as much as what she was asking for. She would receive that sum during the first week of the production's run, and should the audience be as pleased with her as Mr. Stearns anticipated, she would get a small pay raise after that. Christine was very pleased with this clause in her contract and she had every intention of earning the additional pay. First, it would be good if she could send a few francs home to Meg, who had found a position with a dance school, but did not make too much money that way, and second, the additional payment would allow her to save some money and maybe one day go in search of Erik without having to stop at every city for weeks or even months.

Xxxx

Once rehearsals started two weeks later, Christine was fully prepared and had studied the entire role of Lucia. She then met the other members of the company, who all were a bit wary at first. They all were very fond of their previous prima donna who had to take a short break since she was with child and started showing. They had all heard that the replacement had given an exceptional audition and it was obvious that Mr. Stearns was enthusiastic about her. It was therefore only natural that they feared this newcomer might become a permanent company member, thus taking over their beloved colleague's place.

One they met Christine, they were soon won over by her friendly personality and they admired her voice. The fact that she also mentioned on occasion that she had no intention of remaining in London for much longer than the new production's run, "for personal reasons", as she claimed, also worked in her favor. Within a few days, Christine had been integrated into the company and felt accepted.

Xxxx

After three weeks of long and exhausting rehearsals the theater got ready for opening night. Christine once again was getting nervous. She hoped against all hope that maybe Erik was in England after all and would come to her performance. No matter how many times she told herself that it was unlikely she'd find him in the first town she was looking for him, deep down she wished he were here.

Once she Christine on the stage, though, singing Lucia's first aria, all nervousness was gone and she concentrated on her role. She sang about the premonitions Lucia had about her love's doomed nature due to the apparition she had had of an ancestor's ghost, one evening at sundown, when the little pond, in which that ancestor had drowned, killed by a jealous husband, had looked as red as blood in the sunset.

Christine smiled inwardly. Lucia obviously believed in ghosts and was very frightened at the thought that one of them had appeared to her. She remembered the ballet rats back home in Paris and their fear of the "Phantom", as they had called him. She could draw on that memory to bring Lucia's state of mind to life.

Once she had finished, the audience exploded into frantic applause. Christine smiled. She had taken the first hurdle. She had been accepted by the regulars. Now she could relax and concentrated fully on her part. The cabaletta was next, in which Lucia told her friend how much she loved Edgardo, the political enemy of her family.

"Quando rapito in estasi  
>del più cocente amore,<br>col favellar del core  
>mi giura eterna fé;<br>gli affanni miei dimentico,  
>gioia diviene il pianto...<br>parmi che a lui d'accanto  
>si schiuda il ciel per me!"<p>

(When enraptured in ecstasy, in the most passionate ardor, speaking from his heart, he swears to me his eternal love, I forget all my sufferings, my crying turns into joy and when I am at his side it seems to me as if heaven opened to me)

Oh, how much Christine could identify with these words! How much Lucia's feelings for Edgardo mirrored Christine's own love for her Erik. She was thinking of him, while singing these lines and the complicated coloratura piece sounded jubilant and as if it were natural to sing like that – when in love.

The audience was even more enthusiastic after this song than they had been after the first aria. Christine was grateful for the interruption, since it allowed her to rest her voice a bit before the love duet with the tenor, who played Edgardo.

Once the audience had calmed down, the performance continued. Edgardo took his leave of Lucia, since he had to go on a political mission. Christine once again had no trouble picturing the situation. After all, having to face a long separation from her beloved was an experience she was only too familiar with. Lucia promised she would always think of Edgardo, her sighs would reach him with the wind and he would hear her laments in the murmuring of the ocean. If only, Christine thought, if only Erik could somehow sense my love like that, over the distance, wherever he is right now. If only the knowledge of my love could comfort him somehow!

Lucia's brother started his machinations to separate his sister from the undesirable suitor by intercepting Edgardo's letters and forging a letter by a supposed friend who informed Lucia's brother that Edgardo supposedly had a new girlfriend. Feeling betrayed, Lucia agreed to marry Arturo, a man with connections her brother wanted to bind to his house. Christine sighed. She, too, had felt betrayed by her angel when he had killed Buquet, she, too, had agreed to marry somebody else, even though her heart had been bleeding.

Of course, Edgardo came back the moment Lucia had signed the marriage contract. When she realized that she had been tricked by her brother and that Edgardo had been faithful after all, she went mad. She killed her new husband in the wedding night, than erred around the castle, calling for Edgardo, imagining her wedding with him, and finally collapsing and dying. When Edgardo learned of all this, he killed himself, hoping that even though they had been separated on Earth, he and Lucia would be reunited in Heaven.

At the end of the performance Christine felt like she had been through an emotional wringer. So many situations had been similar to her own personal experience, so many scenes had reminded her of her own unfortunate love-story with Erik. And while she was enjoying the enthusiastic reaction of the audience and taking her bows in front of the cheering crowds, she could not help feeling a bit disappointed. She had not sensed Erik's presence in the theater, which either meant he was not in London at all, or for some reason he had missed her first performance. She would have to wait and see. If he did not come to any of the next two or three performances, she would know for sure that he was not here.

She sighed. Unlikely though it had been, she had hoped he would be there. This was the first performance she had ever given anywhere without her angel watching. Would he have been satisfied with her singing, she wondered? She knew she had been near perfect, but there had been one or two small passages that she thought she might be able to do better the next time. She certainly would practice those to make sure she would get as close to excellent as possible.

Xxxxx

Mme. Giry was waiting for Christine in the wings. She smiled at her protégée. "You were fantastic, Christine," she said. "You had me in tears during that Mad Scene. Your interpretation of the unhinged Lucia was breathtaking and your coloratura was just wonderful." Christine hugged her surrogate mother and hid her face in Mme. Giry's shoulder. "Do you think… he… " she whispered. "Erik would be very proud of you," Mme. Giry confirmed. Christine beamed at her. "Are you sure?" she asked hesitantly. "He has such high standards."

Mme. Giry pulled her close. "I take it then, that you think he is not here?" she asked cautiously, ready to provide comfort to the young soprano, should it be needed. A shadow passed over Christine's lovely features. "No," she murmured. "This was the first performance ever that I had to do without him. I did not feel his presence." She sighed. "And now I am restless again, hoping to get away from here to the next town, when I am stuck with this production for the next couple of weeks!"

"We are on the right way, though, Christine," Mme. Giry tried to sooth her. "You had a great success tonight, definitely even bigger than your debut in "Hannibal" way back in Paris. You will get enthusiastic reviews for this role, and that will be your ticket to a job offer elsewhere. We will be able to travel around Europe or even the world and look for Erik. We may not be able to find him today or tomorrow, but I am confident now that one day, we will be in the same city as he is. Now we have to hurry, Christine," she added, "you have to get changed for the opening night reception…"


	13. Fatherhood

Chapter 12 – Fatherhood

The last Monday of October, the Mayor of Rome held a meeting with representatives of the five leading mason companies of the town. He was planning to have a new public school built in the Trastevere section of the city and had asked these five companies to submit drafts and cost estimates for this project. All five had submitted their drawings and calculations three weeks ago and were now eagerly awaiting the Mayor's decision on whose sketch would be chosen. Of course every single one of the masons hoped that his company would be put in charge of this prestigious project, which would not only bring them great financial success but also fame and recognition and would thus lead to future work.

Giovanni was just as nervous as his four colleagues, hoping that his company would get the job. A lot depended on the Mayor's decision. Even though Giovanni was pretty sure that the sketches he had submitted were superior to anything the other masons might have come up with, the Mayor's personal taste and preference would also play an important role in this decision.

When the Mayor entered the room, five pairs of eyes were directed at him, each of them full of hope, but also full of doubt. Who would be the lucky one who would be given this assignment? The Mayor obviously sensed the nervous tension in the room and relished it. He was not about to make his announcement right away.

"Egregi signori," (esteemed gentlemen) he began, "thank you all for coming today. As you are all aware, we are here to discuss the construction of the new Trastevere Public School, for which project all of you have submitted drawings and cost estimates. I have studied your plans thoroughly over the past three weeks and it has not been easy for me to decide which of you should get that particular assignment. Each of your sketches has some merits, each of these drawings has some little detail that I liked. The cheapest estimate was submitted by Luigi Caprotti," he continued, facing the mason in question. All five men present held their breath. Did this mean that Luigi would get the job?

"However," the Mayor continued, "the overall best submission comes from Giovanni Nardini." Everybody now looked at Giovanni, who felt slightly embarrassed and blushed under that much scrutiny. "His sketch is the most beautiful, the execution is only slightly more expensive than Luigi's, and the layout of the whole building is very efficient and will be extremely well suited to the purpose of serving as a school building. The assignment therefore goes to Giovanni."

Giovanni beamed. He wished, he could have convinced Erik to accompany him to the meeting, for those sketches that had won them this prestigious job had been his new son's first work for the company. It would do Erik a lot of good to know that his efforts had been vital in securing this important assignment for Giovanni's company.

Giovanni thanked the Mayor profusely for the honor of being put in charge of constructing the new school, and mentioned that the winning drawing had been done by his son. Luigi Caprotti laughed. "Don't tell us stories, Giovanni," he said. "We all know that you have no son!"

Giovanni smiled. "I do now," he said proudly. "The good Mayor will confirm that about three months ago, I adopted my former apprentice." The Mayor nodded. "I remember you bringing that young man to my office, asking me to take care of the formalities so that you could adopt him. So he is the one who came up with this ingenious design?" He whistled. "Giovanni, I can see why you wanted so badly to tie that man to your company!"

Giovanni blushed. "That's not the only reason," he protested. "While it is true that Erik is extremely talented, I also happen to love him. Years ago, when he worked as my apprentice, I hoped that he would one day become my son. You see, my Luciana…" his voice trailed. Everybody understood. They knew about Luciana's tragic death and how much Giovanni had loved his youngest daughter. If the girl had been sweet on this apprentice of her father's they could understand that Giovanni would see him as some sort of legacy that Luciana had left him behind.

"You have a new son and you have not introduced him to us yet?" Giorgio Merassi, another mason, asked. "Giovanni, that is not fair. We want to meet this genius of yours, especially since he is the reason that you could win this highly prestigious assignment!"

Giovanni nodded. "You will eventually meet my Erik," he promised. "Just give the boy some time to adjust to his new situation. He is a rather solitary, reclusive man to begin with, and he has recently faced some personal tragedy." While this was certainly true, it was also vague enough and Giovanni hoped that his colleagues would assume that Erik's parents had died recently and Giovanni had therefore taken him under his wings and adopted Luciana's former sweetheart. "When he is ready to meet you all, I will introduce you to my son."

The Mayor then dismissed the other four masons and discussed a few details about the start of the construction with Giovanni. When Giovanni finally left, he thought that this meeting had gone extremely well. Not only had his company got the assignment thanks to Erik's beautiful sketch and flawless calculations, he had also managed to inform his most important colleagues about his new son and as far as he could tell, they all believed now that Erik had always lived in Rome. The mention of Luciana's name in connection with Erik had obviously done the trick. If his daughter, who had died so long ago, had known that man and cared for him surely that meant he had been in Rome all his life.

Giovanni was extremely happy. His plan to integrate Erik into Rome's society was going well. He knew that sooner or later Erik would have to start making public appearances. Giovanni also wanted him to oversee the construction of the new school. Erik was not quite comfortable with that idea yet. While he would love to work on the construction site, he was still wary of the workers' reaction to his mask. So far, Erik had only worked from their home, doing sketches, calculations, and all the paper work that came with running such a company.

Erik was aware that sooner or later he would have to leave the house, though, and he was currently experimenting with a special kind of rubber that could hopefully be used to fabricate a more life-like mask, so that Erik's handicap would not be as easily detected. For Erik's sake Giovanni hoped that this rubber mask would live up to his son's expectations. He knew how much his young friend had endured and still suffered because of his face. He was also aware of the fact that Erik's self-esteem was rather low because of his disfigurement. But he was determined to help his son deal with this situation. He would make Erik understand that he could be a productive, well-respected member of society despite his birth defect.

Erik. The thought of his adoptive son filled Giovanni's heart with fatherly pride. He had always liked that boy, even way back, before the tragedy that had cost Luciana her life. But when Erik had told him about his life, about all the suffering he had endured because of his deformity, how he had been shunned by society and driven towards crime, his heart had gone out to the younger man. He had understood that Erik was one of nature's stepchildren, and had been denied the love and affection that every human being needs. He had immediately known that all Erik needed to find his own way and start anew was understanding and caring. It was obvious that when shown affection, the underlying goodness of Erik's heart would assert itself, like when he had been found it in him to release his beloved protégée once he had been granted his first kiss.

Giovanni had therefore done his best to show Erik his support and his love, and to his great joy, Erik thrived under the influence of his new father's affection. The boy had overcome his exhaustion quickly and he had immediately started to help Giovanni with his work. He had brought order into the long neglected accounts and had produced those beautiful sketches for the new school building. Giovanni knew that with every task completed, Erik became more confident of himself, more convinced that he was able to be a useful member of society despite his face. Now that Erik's strength had returned, the young man also began to yearn for physical work. Giovanni smiled. If this rubber mask worked, he would put Erik in charge of the construction of the school. Working outdoors would do him a lot of good, would bring some color to his much too pale skin.

Giovanni went a bit faster. He was suddenly in a hurry to get home and tell his boy that his drawing had been chosen by the Mayor. He needed to show Erik how proud he was of him. He smiled inwardly. Erik was not the only one who profited from this adoption. He, Giovanni, also could not deny the obvious advantages of this arrangement. He was not alone anymore. He once again had a family, had somebody he could love and who loved him back. He and Erik got along great. They respected each other's privacy, but also cared a great deal about each other. They enjoyed each other's company and spent long evenings at the chess board together. Giovanni also loved music and had given Erik permission to use his old piano whenever he felt like playing. So far Erik had not played very often. When he did though, he always played slow, melancholy tunes in minor keys.

Giovanni sighed. He knew that Erik's heart was still bleeding. While his body had healed pretty fast and Erik was strong and healthy again, his mind and heart were still in pain. One day Giovanni had seen Erik hide a drawing of a pretty young woman. He had immediately known that it must have been the likeness of the young singer Christine, that Erik had sketched from memory. He also knew that Erik had put her ring on a thin gold chain and was wearing it around his neck at all times, and Giovanni could not help but notice the deep sorrow that always lingered at the bottom of Erik's eyes.

Giovanni quickly did the math. Over eight months. It had been over eight months since Erik last had seen this woman and yet, his heart still ached for her. Neither time nor distance had been able to sooth the pain, not even the fact that she belonged to another man and had been only too happy to leave Erik, had any influence on his son's feelings. He still loved her and would probably love her till the day he died.

"L'ama tanto (he loves her so much)," Giovanni thought. "I doubt that Vicomte of hers that she has preferred over my boy can love her half as much as my Erik does. How could she not see the depth of his love, the intensity of his feelings for her? How on earth could a woman reject a love as strong and deep as his?"

Giovanni had to admit that his opinion of this Christine-girl was rather low. He knew that he was a bit biased, but adopting Erik had turned the lonely old man into a loving father. Therefore, in his opinion any woman must be glad if a man like his son showed an interest in her, since like any parent, Giovanni thought that his son was superior to other men his age. In fact, he was convinced, that once his new son would be introduced into society, a lot of young women would start looking his way. After all, wasn't Erik incredibly intelligent, talented and well educated? Erik was also good at his job and as Giovanni's son and heir he definitely was a member of the upper class and in the position to support a family.

"And he is rather well-built, too," Giovanni thought. "He is tall and slender, which most women like, and once he starts working outdoors and develops some muscles and a nice tan he will be quite handsome despite his mask." He chuckled. He was not going to tell Erik he actually thought the female population of Rome might find him attractive. That stupid fellow would not believe him anyway and would probably think that he was making fun of his deformity.

Giovanni knew how sensitive Erik was about this handicap of his. Erik seemed to think that because of his face he was not entitled to affection and a normal life. After all the poor boy had been through, this attitude was of course understandable. Giovanni hoped, though, that one day Erik would learn to accept that his looks did not diminish him as a person.

Xxx

When Giovanni came home, he found Erik at the desk in his small study, busy writing an order for more bricks that they would need for a villa Giovanni was currently building for a Marchese. The moment the door opened, Erik furtively tucked away his ring, hiding it once again underneath his shirt. Giovanni had noticed it anyway. "My poor boy," he murmured, "if only I could help you!" Erik looked away, fighting back tears. "You are still missing her," Giovanni stated softly, putting a comforting hand on his son's shoulder. Erik nodded. "Always," he whispered.

Giovanni's heart went out to his adoptive son and he cursed the woman that had been too preoccupied with looks to appreciate his boy's love and his obvious qualities. "I hope she burns in hell," he thought, "for causing him so much pain."

After a short pause, he looked at Erik, smiling. "Congratulations, son," he informed Erik of the meeting's result. "You did it. Your drawings won this competition. The assignment to build this new school went to us." Erik felt relief. Until that moment he had not been a hundred percent certain that Giovanni really needed him and he had sometimes suspected that the old mason had taken him in out of pity or maybe to honor the memory of Luciana or for some similar reason. Now that his work had helped Giovanni land a prestigious assignment, he felt for the first time as if he could contribute something, make the company even more profitable.

"I am so proud of you," Giovanni beamed. "And I think the other masons were rather envious of me for having such a talented son. I know their boys. Luigi's son is okay. Not too talented, but a decent man and he loves the work and will one day take over his father's company. The others.. " He shook his head. "Carlo's oldest boy is the worst, a lazy womanizer. None of these young men comes even close to you."

Erik felt slightly embarrassed and blushed. "You are biased," he uttered. Giovanni smiled. "Maybe," he conceded. "But none of their sons designed the new school. You did. None of their sons has ever won their company an important assignment. You have. I know you always think that you are somewhat lacking because of your face, but let me tell you, I wouldn't trade you for one of their smooth-faced sons. I would not have wanted any one of them, but I did want you."

Erik smiled at this declaration of his father's love. The feeling of being wanted and accepted, of being loved, was still new for him, but he had to admit that it was a good one. He knew that Giovanni cared for him deeply and was immensely grateful to the old man. "Why could not my mother love me like that?" Erik asked himself. "If a complete strange like Giovanni can give me a parent's love, why couldn't my own mother do the same for me?" Not for the first time he wondered what his life might have been like if he had been granted love and affection right from the start.

Giovanni hesitated a bit before he continued. "I told the Mayor that I would put you in charge of the construction," he said cautiously. How would Erik react? Was he ready to leave the house and face the world outside, the world, which so far had treated him rather cruelly?

Erik faced his adopted father. "Do you really think the workers would accept a freak like me?" he asked, his voice sounding bitter. Giovanni nodded. "Once they realize how competent you are, they will look up to you. They also know that I love you and would not want to upset me by denying my son the due respect. But I am fairly certain they will worship you because of your expertise. They are not stupid, Erik. They will be proud to work for you."

Erik was not too convinced. "I would feel better if I looked like a normal man," he said. "I will have to spend more time on fabricating this rubber mask." Giovanni smiled at him encouragingly. "You _are _a normal man, Erik," he said decisively. "Your face does not make you any less a man than anybody else. If you feel better when you can hide behind a mask, that's fine with me, but I don't care whether you wear one or not. In fact, I do not see a reason why you could not take it off in the house. Don't give me that appalled look," he chuckled. "I know what you look like and it does not shock me. You may believe me or not, but every father loves his son's face, no matter what the child looks like. You are my son now, a son that I can be very proud of, and like any father I love my son's face."


	14. Acceptance

Wow! So many reviews! You really seem to have liked the last chapter! Thank you all so much, it means a lot to me that you are not only reading but also enjoying my stories.

Anyway, there is more father-son-stuff ahead, before we return to Christine next chapter...

Oh, and I still don't own anything or anybody...

Chapter 13 – Acceptance

For the next two weeks Erik spent most of his spare time working on his new mask, until he finally felt it was close enough to looking natural that he might dare go out by daylight wearing it without having to fear people staring at him. While the seams of the mask would still be slightly visible under close scrutiny and especially in very bright light, it would be next to impossible to notice for a passer-by in the street, especially if Erik wore a hat.

He put on the mask and went to the living room to show it to Giovanni. The old mason stared at his adopted son in wonder. "This is amazing, Erik," he stammered. "I almost did not recognize you! How did you manage to fabricate this mask?"

Erik beamed at his new father's impressed words and went into a highly technical description of how he had been able to mold and shape the rubber so that it would look the way the right side of his face might have looked if it were not disfigured. Giovanni understood only half of what Erik was telling him, but it only confirmed his opinion that his son was very talented in many ways, a highly creative person, and overall very special.

"Oh Erik," he murmured. "I know how much this means to you. This mask will allow you to work on the construction site for the new school, see your project through from start to finish. That way I can concentrate on the villa for this obnoxious Marchese, who once again wants some changes made that we would have had to know about weeks ago and that at the current progress of construction will be hard to implement." He smiled at is son. He did not want to think of that pesky nobleman when Erik had found a way to interact with others like any other man.

"Will you come to work with me tomorrow?" Giovanni asked eagerly. "That way, I could introduce you to our employees, and you can pick those you want to work with you on the school project. The Mayor just sent me a note yesterday that he would like us to start with the school on Monday."

Erik hesitated for a moment. Somehow the thought of walking around in bright daylight, where everybody could see him, still scared him. Then he thought of his new mask. He would never know how natural it really looked, unless he tried it out. Considering that it was late fall, the sky overcast most of the time and the days were rather gray and gloomy, chances were good nobody would notice anything strange about him. He finally nodded. "I will come with you tomorrow," he promised.

Giovanni beamed. He knew Erik had made an important step in the right direction, if he was willing to leave the house and walk among other people as if he had no handicap. He was convinced that Erik's professional expertise would do the rest. Once he had earned his workers' respect, his self-esteem would hopefully get a boost and he would learn to see himself as normal.

Xxxx

The next day, a proud Giovanni introduced his new son to his employees. He informed them that Erik would be in charge of the school project about to start next Monday. He then explained the current work to Erik, showed him the changes the Marchese wanted to have made and was not surprised when Erik came up with a cost-effective way of implementing those even at such an advanced stage of the villa's construction. Giovanni was impressed. He had not thought of that particular possibility, but he had to admit that it would not only work but also not cause any noticeable delay.

Giovanni's foreman Marco came up to Erik. "Signor Erik," he said, "The solution you suggested is brilliant. It is obvious that you understand a lot of our profession. The master has already told us that you are the one who submitted the winning sketch for the school in Trastevere. It will be an honor for all of us to work with you."

Erik was a bit embarrassed at that high praise. He still was not used to getting recognition for anything he did, but he had to admit to himself that it was a good feeling to be appreciated for one's knowledge and achievements.

The following Monday, Erik and his chosen team of workers assembled at the construction site for the new school. Giovanni had informed the four masons who had competed with him for the assignment and invited them to the groundbreaking ceremony, where he officially introduced Erik to them as his new son. They were all impressed by "the young Nardini", who obviously was not only highly competent but was also respected by his employees. They had often pitied "il povero Giovanni" (poor Giovanni) for not having a son and successor, but they had now to admit that Giovanni had found himself a most worthy heir. That Giovanni and his new son also seemed quite fond of each other was just an additional bonus. Considering their own sons' limited potential they had an inkling that "Nardini & Son" would soon be Rome's leading masonry business.

Xxxx

November turned into December and the construction of the new school progressed nicely. Erik highly enjoyed his work and his staff adored him. They knew that he was not only highly competent but also did not consider it beneath him to get his hands dirty and work alongside them.

As Giovanni had suspected, the physical exertion did Erik a lot of good. His muscles developed and his skin took on a healthy color. To Giovanni's great relief, Erik had also well adjusted to interacting with his co-workers. His son's insecurity had not prevailed long, once Erik had felt his staff's respect and acceptance. Erik was definitely getting ready to being introduced into Roman society. There was just one last hurdle they had to overcome, before he would take Erik with him to public events and functions.

In mid-December Giovanni received a letter he had been eagerly awaiting. He opened it immediately and read through it, then he nodded. Everything was going as planned.

That same night, after dinner, Giovanni looked at his adopted son. "Angela and her family will come here on Saturday," he informed Erik. "They will stay until Christmas." Erik started to fidget nervously. Giovanni's daughter was coming for a visit! He suddenly felt like an intruder. For the first time in months he remembered that he had no right to Giovanni's love. He was not really a member of the family, and once Angela and her children had arrived, he would be like the fifth wheel.

"I will keep to myself and try not to intrude during her visit," he finally whispered. Giovanni looked up sharply. "What kind of nonsense is this?" he asked. "What makes you think you will be considered an intruder? You are a member of the family now, and I have explicitly asked Angela to come, so that you can meet your new relatives. I think you and Angela only met very briefly when you were my apprentice, and her children had not been born yet then. Since you are now my son, Angela is your sister, and I hope that the two of you will become like real siblings. I am fairly certain you will like her husband Mario. He is a nice fellow. As to the children, you have two nephews, Giuseppe and Piero, they are twelve and ten years old, and a young niece, Assunta, who is five."

Erik stared at Giovanni. "You want to force me on them? What will they think? They have so much more right to your love than I do."

Giovanni interrupted him. "No, they do not. By adopting you I assumed not only all the rights of a father, but also all the duties. It is a father's duty to love all his children equally. As my adopted son, you are therefore entitled to the same love my biological daughter Angela receives from me." He frowned as he saw Erik's insecurity return. "Erik, don't fret. All will go well, you'll see. They are a nice bunch and they know that I once hoped you'd become my son-in-law. I am certain they will accept you and welcome you into the family once they have got a chance to know you."

Erik nodded, unconvinced. He had a feeling that Angela and her family might not share her father's opinion in that specific case. After all, who liked having to share one's father's affections with a half-faced freak and stranger?

Giovanni sighed. Erik had been doing so well. Why did the prospect of meeting his new relatives seem to scare him so? Still, he had a feeling that in this case Erik was probably the lesser problem. Despite his display of confidence, he was not too certain of Angela's reaction to her new brother.

Xxx

Saturday afternoon, Angela and her family arrived from Naples. Erik had retired to his room – with Giovanni's permission. They both agreed that Angela deserved to hear an explanation first, before Giovanni would introduce her to her new brother.

Giovanni warmly greeted his daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren. He did not see them often, but he loved them all, especially the children. Once they had all comfortably sat down in the living room, Giovanni began to speak. "Angela, Mario," he said, "from my last letter you will have learned that I recently adopted a former apprentice of mine. Angela, I think you only met him briefly then, but Erik is the young man Luciana was crazy about."

Angela stared at her father in shock. "You mean that disfigured freak of nature, whose face is so ugly that he had to wear a mask at all times? Father, you cannot be serious!"

Giovanni glared at her. "I will not allow you to talk like that about your brother in my house," he said firmly. "Erik is a very intelligent, talented, competent man, who will be able to take over the family business, once I will be too old to continue. While it is true that he suffers from a facial deformity, he has succeeded in fabricating a very natural-looking rubber mask which covers the damaged part of his face. When he wears this mask – which he will do in your presence – he is actually quite handsome. Also, please keep in mind that I love him and that, if things had been different, he might have been your brother-in-law anyway."

Angela had never heard her father talk to her like that. She understood that the old man was totally besotted with his so-called son and she suspected foul play. After all, Giovanni was fairly well off, it would be worth the effort for an adventurer to play the affectionate son in order to become Giovanni's heir.

"So this Erik is your heir now?" she asked angrily. "What about me and my children, your own flesh and blood?"

Giovanni smiled. If that was her only concern, he had an answer to that. "Actually, the fact that I have such a talented son and successor now, works in your favor," he explained to Angela. "Without him, sooner or later I would have had to sell my business and retire, living off my savings and whatever I would have got for the business. At my death, not too much would have remained for you to inherit. Now, Erik will take over, we will keep the business running, Erik and I will be able to live comfortably off it, and once I'll die, Erik will be able to send you part of the company revenues on a monthly basis. He will deduct his salary from the net profit and send you your fifty percent share of the rest, like any good brother would do."

Angela bit her lip. She could not say anything against this plan. If things turned out that way, having a brother would indeed work in her favor. But what if the moment her father died, this adventurer sold the company and disappeared with the money?

"You do not know Erik yet," Giovanni continued. "Therefore you do not trust him yet. I understand that. But I also know that you will learn to do so." He then went to fetch Erik.

Erik was very nervous when Giovanni introduced him to the family. He felt like an intruder. Mario immediately picked up on his new brother-in-law's insecurity and felt pity for him. "This is as awkward for him as it is for us," he thought by himself. "He does not give me the impression at all as if he were after the old man's money." He greeted Erik friendly, while Angela remained a bit reserved and the children did not quite know what to think of this "zio Erik" (uncle Erik), that they had never heard about before.

The adults sat down to make some stilted conversation, while the children played in a corner. Suddenly Piero started crying. A mechanical gadget he and his brother had been playing with had somehow broken down. "Father, please, can you fix it?" he asked Mario.

Mario looked at the gadget and shook his head. "I am afraid, no," he said. He had no talent for that kind of delicate work. Erik gazed at the gadget. "May I have a look?" he asked. Giovanni smiled. "Of course," he said. "Piero, show your toy to zio Erik."

Piero cautiously approached the new uncle and held his toy out to him without a word. Erik took it and examined the contraption. He immediately noticed that a screw was lose and the mechanism was therefore not working properly anymore. "You are in luck, young man," he reassured the boy. "With the help of a screwdriver this will be fixed in no time at all." With these words he left to get the tool in question. A few minutes later he returned and to Piero's utter delight repaired the toy.

The boy beamed. "Zio Erik, thank you very much," he said, and after a moment's hesitation he added. "Would you like to play with us a bit, to see if it works properly now?"

Erik nodded. He felt more at ease with the children than the adults. Soon he was playing with his new nephews ad niece and they were convinced that "zio Erik" was the best uncle they could wish for – not that they had any comparison, their father being an only child.

Giovanni smiled. He should have known that Erik would be good with the children. He remembered what his adopted son had told him about his relationship with the Persian boy, Reza, and later with the orphaned girl, Christine. "He would be a great father," Giovanni thought. "But unless he finds a woman that can not only see beyond his face but also live with the memory of this cursed Christine who hurt him so much, I don't see that happen."

As Angela saw Erik play with her children she mellowed a bit. She loved the three very much and her new brother's attitude towards them impressed her. "Would he do that if he truly were an adventurer?" she asked herself. She was not completely convinced yet, but she began having her doubts about the justification of her suspicions.

Xxx

The following Monday, when Erik had left to work on the school project, Angela secretly followed him and observed him from afar. She realized that her father had not exaggerated when he had called Erik an accomplished mason. She was no mason, but as a mason's daughter she understood enough about the business to know that Erik was extremely competent. She also noticed that the workers treated him with respect and seemed to like him a lot. Her doubts were beginning to dissolve.

On her way back home she once again replayed in her mind every scene with Erik since her arrival. She remembered how proud her father seemed of his new son, but also a few furtive displays of affection between the two men. "Maybe it's because of Luciana," she thought, "or maybe because they share the same profession and a lot of interests, like this obsession with chess and this love for music, but I think Erik really does care about Papa, and there is no doubt that my father loves him like a son. Maybe I am unfair. Mother and Luciana have been dead for so long, and I have moved away to Naples. Father must have been very lonely all these years. Erik obviously is lonely, too. While I would not have noticed that he is wearing a mask if I had not known, I can understand that with a disfigurement as bad as his supposedly is, he will have troubles founding a family himself, and if I remember correctly his parents were dead already when he was my father's apprentice. Maybe I should be glad that these two lonely men have each other."

In the evening, she waited nervously for Erik to come home. When she heard the door she went to meet him in the hallway. "We need to talk," she said. Erik felt uncomfortable. He had sensed her reservation over the weekend. Was she now going to tell him that she considered him an intruder?

"I want to apologize to you," Angela began. Erik stared at her, startled. "Apologize?" he asked. Angela nodded. "I misjudged you. I thought you were an adventurer trying to win my father's affection to somehow gain access to his money." She blushed. "But I have seen you with the children and I have seen you with my father. The two of you really behave like father and son and I do think that the affection between the two of you is genuine." She took a deep breath before continuing. "I also spied on you today," she finally confessed. "I followed you to the construction site and observed you there. I am a mason's daughter, and I know a good mason when I see one. It is clear that you could start your own business any day and be highly successful. You do not need my father for that."

Erik shook his head. "Before I got this mask perfected, I would not have been able to run a business," he confessed. "It was hard enough to find a job. Your father gave me a chance when I needed one and because of that I love him."

Angela smiled. "You are honest, too," she said. "I like that. I am glad that my father found you, that he now has somebody here with him and is not as lonely anymore. If you agree, from now on we will be brother and sister, as our father wants us to be."

Erik fought back tears. She had offered to be his sister and had referred to Giovanni as "our father", thus acknowledging that Erik was Giovanni's son. "I would like that very much," he finally mumbled. Angela took his hand. "Then come," she said, "and let's tell father."


	15. Depression

Hi everybody! Thank you for your reviews, for reading and for being patient when I make you wait for the next update.

As to Great Red Dragon's comment about the rubber mask, I am sure it is a valid concern, but then, it would apply to any mask. Any mask would be chafing and make poor Erik sweat underneath. Porcelain would probably heat up under the sun (think of a cup when you pour in hot liquid) and leather would not be any more comfortable with its rough backside. Since Erik will have to suffer anyway, let him use the mask that looks as normal as possible, since that is important to our boy. Also, let's not forget that it is customary in southern countries to close things down for a few hours around noon to avoid the heat. During such a siesta Erik could go home for lunch, take off his mask for a while and cool down.

Anyway, Erik is in good hands for the moment, so we are going to have a look at Christine next. And don't forget, I don't own anything or anybody.

Oh, and the season at La Scala traditionally opens on December 7, which is the day of Sant'Ambrogio (St. Ambrosius), the patron saint of Milan.

Chapter 14 – Depression

On a warm summer day a young woman sat on the balcony of a comfortable apartment in the center of Munich. Nobody who saw her sit there and look out into the bright sunshine would have recognized her as the elegant young diva who currently enraptured the town's music enthusiasts with her inspired interpretation of Bellini's "Norma".

Here, at the home she had rented for the duration of her stay, Christine Daaé was not the brilliant star of the opera. Here she did not have to play the role of the successful woman proud of her achievements. Here she could be herself.

Christine sighed. She was still so young, her whole life was still lying ahead of her, but she was not looking forward to it. Not anymore, since with every passing day, with every city she had passed through so far in her search for Erik, she had become more convinced that her life would be a lonely one, that she would never be able to find Erik again.

It had all seemed so easy. She would build a reputation for herself and travel from town to town seeking employment at the local opera house. She would stay for one production, two at the utmost, then go on to the next town, and sooner or later she would reach the place where Erik currently resided, he would come to her performance and she would just sense his presence as she had always done. She had known that in all likelihood she would not find him in the first town she went to, or even in the second one, but after the fifth town she had grown impatient.

Four long years had passed since her triumph as Lucia in London. Four years in which Christine had performed leading soprano parts all over Northern and Central Europe. She had been to so many cities and sung so many roles, that she hardly could remember them all. After the first three productions she had starred in, an agent had taken care of getting her jobs in other theaters. He now sent newspaper clippings and pictures of her performances to theater managers, advertising her as a "must see" star and made sure that whenever a production ended she already was booked for a new one in a different city.

That part of her plan at least had worked out. Christine's name had become famous all over Europe. She was fairly certain that every person with even the slightest interest in music had heard about La Daaé. Everybody, it seemed, except for the only one that mattered to her.

Where was Erik? Why had he never come to one of her performances? Did he live so far away from civilization, in a secluded spot, hiding away from the world that had treated him so poorly, that he had not heard of her successes? Was he traveling around like herself and they kept missing each other?

Tears started running down the young singer's cheeks. Had something happened to him? Had he been arrested or abused because of his face? Was he sick, in pain, unable to come and hear her sing? Had he died? She refused to consider that possibility. Deep down she was convinced she would somehow know if he had died, if the connection they shared and which had always enabled her to sense his presence had been severed by death.

That connection had once been very strong, its intensity had made her uneasy at times, frightened her. Even before Erik had revealed himself she had always been able to sense her angel's presence. That had been years ago, though. Before she had betrayed him so cruelly, before she had broken his heart and left him, cutting all ties between them. What if by leaving her angel the night of the fire she had severed their connection for good? What if she would never again be able to sense his presence, even if he were standing right behind her? In that case he could be in any of the cities she had passed through, could even have followed her around without her knowing it. But if so, how could she ever find him? She had counted on her ability to sense him, on a lover's sixth sense to feel the beloved person's nearness. If she could not rely on this ability, what were her chances of ever being reunited with Erik?

Another thought kept haunting the young woman. What if he was so hurt, so angry at her that he did not want to see her ever again? What if she had already been in his town and he had known about her appearance there and had deliberately stayed away because he feared reopening old wounds? What if he did not want to be found, least of all by her?

By now Christine was sobbing heavily. Erik had been heart-broken when she had left him. The pain in his expressive eyes, the tears on his ugly, bare face, the way his voice broke when he finally told her he loved her – all these memories kept haunting her. The realization of her guilt weighed her down. The longer her search for Erik took, the guiltier she felt. Since her angel did not know that she had finally realized how much he meant to her, he most probably still thought about her as his lost love. The longer it took to find him, the longer he would remain in his misery. Not being able to find him was hard enough for Christine, who knew that his heart belonged to her. The longing and the uncertainty about his fate and whereabouts were killing her. But compared to Erik's situation she was really fortunate. Unlike him, she at least knew that she was loved, that her feelings were being reciprocated. Erik had no such knowledge to draw strength from. On the contrary, he was likely to think that she had rejected him because of his face, that he could never find love and acceptance. Maybe he even believed that she had forgotten him long ago and was happily married to Raoul.

"Oh Angel," Christine sobbed, "if at least you knew how much I love you and miss you, and how much I long to see you again and explain it all to you. If at least you wouldn't have to feel so rejected and betrayed anymore, I could deal with our separation a bit better. To think that you still do not know that my heart belongs to you after all!"

When Mme. Giry came looking for Christine a few moments later, she found her surrogate daughter in tears. She did not have to ask what was the matter, she knew the young woman's thoughts only too well. After all, she, too, was beginning to wonder what had become of Erik. While she was not too convinced that Christine would be able to sense Erik's presence should he ever attend one of her performances, she had expected him to contact her to get news on his beloved, should they ever be in the same town. But those four years had passed and she had not heard from him yet and like Christine she was beginning to worry that they might never find him, though for her young friend's sake she kept pretending that she was convinced they'd meet Erik soon.

"Oh Christine," she whispered, hugging the sobbing woman close. "Don't be so unhappy. I am sure he is fine and we will find him soon. Just think about it, when you will be able to tell him that you love him after all!" She knew that she probably did not sound too convincing. After all their travels she had lost hope as well. She was no longer convinced that her foster brother was somewhere in Europe. For all she knew Erik could have gone off to some uncivilized place that he remembered from his travels with the gypsies. Maybe he was in Siberia by now, or in India or Egypt.

Christine clung to Mme. Giry like to a lifeline. "What if he has forgotten me? If he does not love me anymore?" she sobbed.

Mme. Giry smiled. "Now you are being silly," she admonished the young woman. "You do not believe that yourself. You were Erik's first and only love. The way he felt about you, it was clear that he will never love anybody else." Mme. Giry sighed. She knew she had told the truth. After all, she had seen Erik that night, immediately after he had set Christine free. She had witnessed his pain at losing the woman he loved, and yet, his love had been deep and strong enough to do what he thought was best for Christine. He had been able to sacrifice his own hopes and dreams of happiness so that his beloved could live her dream. He had not blamed Christine at all for jumping at the opportunity to leave him. On the contrary, he had blamed himself and had not even dared to hope that Christine could ever forgive him.

Erik had been so miserable that night, but his love had never been more obvious than when he thought he had lost Christine forever. To think of Erik's despair that night and to watch Christine right now crying her eyes out longing for a reunion with the man she had once betrayed and left so willingly, always made Mme. Giry feel guilty. "It will be my fault, if they never find each other again," she thought. "Why on earth did I send that Vicomte after them that night? They would have figured out their feelings for each other sooner or later, since their love is genuine. Without my interference they would be happily married by now, maybe even have a baby. What are their chances now of ever being reunited again? Slim, pretty slim. Of course they both made mistakes and hurt each other, but that only happened because they were both so inexperienced with relationships. Christine was way too young to understand love and Erik, well, let's face it, when it comes to relationships, his experience is that of a three-year-old. I can't blame them for screwing up so badly. I, on the other hand, should have known. I should have realized what was going on between them. If anything, I should have helped them find the way to each other. Instead I sent them the Vicomte and thus caused their separation."

Christine's tears continued to flow. "My poor angel was so miserable when I last saw him," she cried. "What if he is still as unhappy, if he is still suffering as much? It's all my fault. I broke his heart and then abandoned him to his fate. I did not even make sure he would be save from the gendarmes and the mob. Oh Mme. Giry, he could have been killed or injured that night and I just turned my back and went away as if I did not care! What must he think of me! How can he ever forgive me?"

Mme. Giry wrapped her arms around the sobbing young diva and held her close. "He has already forgiven you," she whispered. "He thinks _you_ must forgive _him_." She gently caressed her surrogate daughter's dark curls. "Once we'll find him the two of you can discuss all this and I am sure that you both will have some explaining and forgiving to do, but ultimately you will be able to sort it all out. Love always finds a way."

Mme. Giry sighed inwardly. "At least I hope that love will find a way," she thought. "Apparently we will need a miracle to even find Erik, and if we do, will he believe her? Will he be able to trust her again, will he be willing to open his heart to her again, thus risking that he may get hurt again?"

When she addressed Christine, Mme. Giry tried to sound as confident as possible. "Don't give up hope," she said. "I can't believe that God finally made you realize how much Erik means to you only to keep the two of you apart for the rest of your lives. I am sure that sooner or later the two of you will be together again. Just look on the bright side of it all. After such a long separation and all your heart-ache the two of you will appreciate your relationship even more. Being finally together will mean so much more to both of you, because you have been apart for so long."

Christine nodded. Oh, how wonderful it would be to lie in her angel's arms again! To hear his voice again, telling her from the depth of his heart how much he loved her, to kiss him and be kissed by him again!

Mme. Giry smiled when she sensed Christine relax. "Are you calmer now, my dear?" she asked. "Then dry your tears and wash your face. And then let's have a look at this letter here."

Christie looked up. "A letter? From Meg?" Mme. Giry shook her head. "No, from your agent. Are you not curious where we will be going next and which role you will be singing there? After all, the last performance of "Norma" is next Wednesday and then we can leave here."

Christine smiled under tears. She had almost forgotten. She would be free in a few days – free to go to yet another city. Maybe this time they would be lucky. Maybe the next town was where her Angel lived now. New hope filled the young soprano. "I'll quickly wash my face," she promised, "and then we will read the letter!"

Christine hurried to the bathroom to cool her burning eyes and swollen eyelids and returned a few minutes later, full of enthusiasm. "So, where is that letter?" she asked. "Let me see, where we are going next!"

Mme. Giry handed her the letter, which Christine hastily opened and began to read. When she had finished, her eyes were shining with delight. "Italy," she exclaimed. "We are going to Italy. The agency has a whole tour planned for me already. First we go to Venice, where I will sing Marie in "Figlia del Reggimento" - remember? I did that role last year in Vienna, it should not be too hard to brush up on it, which is a good thing since rehearsals start in two weeks at the prestigious La Fenice opera house, the opening night is planned for mid August, the production will run for six weeks. The next stop is Florence, with the opening of "L'Elisir d'Amore" in late October. This is a new role for me. I should receive the piano score within the next few days. The role I will be playing is called Adina. Then I am supposed to perform at a gala concert on the occasion of the opening of the new season at La Scala in Milan. Supposedly I will only sing one or two arias at that event, which I can chose myself. The agent suggests I should do the mad scene from "Lucia di Lammermoor" and maybe Elissa's aria from "Hannibal". Immediately after that we are going to Rome for the opening production of the Carnival Season, which will be Verdi's "Luisa Miller"."

Mme. Giry was impressed. They already had their itinerary planned for the next half year or so. Going to four different cities in such a short time and performing in three different productions plus a concert would be exhausting for Christine, though. "Will that busy schedule not be too stressful for you?" she asked cautiously. "Maybe we should take a few weeks off in spring, so that you can relax."

Christine shook her head. "Oh, Mme. Giry, how can you think of rest?"she asked, "when I am offered a chance to go to so many new cities!" She hugged her surrogate mother. "Think about it, maybe Erik is in Italy!" She stopped dead in her tracks. "Erik speaks Italian very well," she suddenly remembered. "Whenever he made me study some piece by an Italian composer he always translated the words for me, he even taught me some basics, which is why I have not had any troubles memorizing the lines of all these Italian operas that I have been singing recently. Why have I not thought about this before. I am almost certain now that we will find Erik in Italy!"

Mme. Giry smiled. Christine's sudden enthusiasm was endearing. "I sure hope, she is right," she thought, "and Erik is indeed somewhere in Italy, so that we will at last find him."

Aloud she said, "I am sure we will enjoy Italy a lot. I have always wanted to go there. Venice is supposed to be such a romantic town, built into the lagoon, and Florence is called the most beautiful city of Tuscany. Milan, I am not so sure about, though the cathedral is famous, but Rome! There is so much history there and it is now the capital of Italy and maybe the king will come to the opening night! And we will be able to go to St. Peter's Cathedral and maybe even see the Pope!"

Christine laughed. "I don't care about the king," she said. "All I want is Erik. Should he be in Venice or Florence, or even Milan , I swear to you, I won't even go to Rome. Not even to see the Pope, though I admit that I might like getting a chance to meet the head of Christianity. But Erik…" she looked dreamily into the far distance. "Erik really is all I want and all I need. I do hope that he is in Italy!"

Christine jumped up, ran over to Mme. Giry and hugged her. "Imagine, maybe my angel is in Venice, maybe we will be in the same town as he is in just a few days! "

Mme. Giry smiled. "Just remember that there is no guarantee we'll find him there. Even if Erik is in Italy, there are lots of other cities there where he could be, like Torino, Naples, Genoa.."

"I know," Christine interrupted her. "If we don't find Erik in one of these four cities, we'll just have to let my agent know that we would like to see those other towns as well. We'll just have to keep moving till we have found him."


	16. News

Chapter 15 – News

Giovanni was happy. Christmas was approaching fast and since Angela and Mario had promised to come for a visit over the holidays and bring the children, he would soon have his entire family reunited once again. To his immense joy, after a short period of uneasiness Angela had accepted Erik as a brother and his solitary adopted son had learned to love his new relatives. The children in particular liked their new uncle, who always surprised them with a new toy that he had created for them.

Giovanni knew that Erik was a major reason for Angela's more frequent visits over the past four years. Since her children wanted to see "zio Erik" more often, the whole family now used every possible excuse to visit: Christmas, Easter, birthdays – there was now not one important day in the entire year that did not see his family united. Erik and Angela had become almost as close as if they had been siblings by birth and Angela's husband Mario liked his new brother-in-law a lot as well.

His son Erik. Giovanni smiled. Adopting Erik had turned out to be a blessing in more ways than one. Erik had grown into the family business over the past four years and handled most of the work alone now. Giovanni did some of the office work and occasionally visited the construction sites, while Erik took care of the rest. The workers looked up to Erik and admired his expertise and his creativity when unanticipated problems arose or last-minute changes required unorthodox solutions.

Erik had also made a name for himself as an extraordinarily talented designer, who could erect buildings that were highly functional while at the same time unique. Around the time of Erik's arrival in town Rome had become the capital and residence of king Vittorio Emanuele, which meant that the whole court had moved there. Ministers and other dignitaries had been looking for private homes for their families, but also for their trusted servants that they had brought with them. The last years had therefore been good years for masons and carpenters, with many new building projects all over the city. The company "Nardini & Son" had been in high demand thanks to Erik's tasteful and imaginative designs and their flawless execution that he always provided.

The company had prospered considerably since Erik had joined it as the junior partner and had been quite profitable for both, Giovanni and his son. By now theirs was the leading masonry business of Rome and they got more requests than they could handle. They would have to hire a few more workers and expand the business. It was a good thing that Angela's second boy Piero was planning to move to Rome permanently once he'd finish school next summer and to join the family company as an apprentice. That way Erik would have some help – and Giovanni would have his grandson around.

Erik had come a long way those past four years. Giovanni had very good reason to be proud of him. By and by his son had gained a bit more self-esteem. Erik's professional success had certainly played a big role in that, as had the fact that Giovanni's relatives had accepted him into the family. While his work had helped Erik to understand that he could be a valuable member of society despite his birth defect, his new family had given him the emotional support he needed.

Erik still preferred solitude over mingling with society, but he understood that his job required him to stay in contact with certain influential people and attend the occasional festivity together with his adoptive father. At first he had been reluctant to do so, aware that sooner or later someone would notice the rubber part of his face. To his surprise, when someone did notice, nobody cared. Everybody assumed that he had probably been injured somehow during the Risorgimento-fights, as several other young men had been and that he was trying to cover up his scars. Roman society did not think less of Erik because of his not quite natural face. They knew him as a competent and intelligent man, maybe more reclusive than some mothers of nubile daughters might have liked, but an honorable and respected member of the city's upper class nevertheless.

Giovanni sighed. He loved Erik dearly and on the whole he was very satisfied with his son, except for one little detail. Erik seemed unable to get over this stupid woman that had betrayed him and broken his heart. Giovanni had found it natural at first that Erik missed his former student. He could even understand that Erik still loved her despite everything that had happened between them. But Giovanni knew the ways of the world and had been convinced that sooner or later the pain over her loss would diminish and that one day Erik would be ready for a new relationship. But apparently that day would never come. Once Giovanni had introduced Erik to all his contacts and his son started accompanying him to important events, it became obvious that his tall, slender, well-dressed son did not go unnoticed by the young ladies. Despite the fact that everybody knew that something was wrong with the young Nardini's face, Erik was still considered a good catch. But no matter how pretty, witty or otherwise talented a lady was, Erik kept them all at a distance and showed no interest in them at all.

That blasted Christine! Giovanni hated her with a vengeance. He knew that she was the reason why Erik was unable to even consider a new relationship. He was well aware that his son was still wearing her ring around his neck and more than once had he caught Erik gazing at a drawing of her that he always put away quickly when someone approached. For some reason Erik could not get this woman out of his mind. Over four years had passed since she had left with her other suitor, and yet, Erik's heart still longed for her and whenever his music-loving son sat down in front of the piano, he only played plaintive melodies in minor keys.

Despite his unrequited love, Erik was not unhappy, though. At least not completely. Giovanni knew that his son derived a lot of satisfaction from his work and Erik thrived under his new family's love. It was just that the boy was not really happy either. Something was missing in his life, something very important. Erik had no female companion to share his life with, no wife to welcome him at home after a long day at work and no children who would carry on the business after him. At least there was Piero, who might one day take over.

Giovanni was walking through the streets of the city, deep in thoughts. He had been planning to do some window-shopping and maybe get a few more Christmas gifts for his family, but he had been so lost in thoughts that he had not paid attention to the way. He suddenly realized that he had taken a wrong turn a while back and that instead of being near the shops he had wanted to visit, he had reached the back entrance of the opera house.

While he was still looking around considering the best way to get back to the shops, his eyes suddenly were drawn to a huge poster. He gasped. For a moment he thought he was still thinking of Erik's dilemma and that his imagination was playing tricks on him. But once he looked closer it became obvious that he was not dreaming. The woman on the poster did not only look just like the girl on Erik's drawing, it really was her. Huge letters announced that the "soprano of the century", the unparalleled Christine Daaé would finally come to Rome. She would be starring in the new production of "Luisa Miller" by the "onorevole signor Giuseppe Verdi" (honorable Mr. Giuseppe Verdi). This production would be the first one of the Carnival season. The opening night in the first week of January would therefore be a gala event in the presence of His Majesty King Vittorio Emanuele.

"Gran Dio!" Giovanni closed his eyes to think. What was he to do now? How would his poor boy take these news? What was that woman doing here anyway? Why could she not stay home with her young aristocratic husband and enjoy life? Was she so anxious to be on stage, to be the center of everybody's attention that she had somehow convinced her Vicomte to let her continue to perform? Or was the family in financial trouble and they needed the money so she had to return to the stage?

Giovanni vaguely remembered having read a short note in the papers recently that the French diva Christine Daaé impressed audiences wherever she appeared. Fortunately Erik rarely read anything but political articles so it had not been too difficult for Giovanni to make the page with the information on Christine disappear before his son had a look at this particular issue of the newspaper. He had not wanted to remind Erik of this woman for fear of causing his son some new pain.

That would not be possible anymore, though. Now that the wench was coming here, he would have to tell Erik. As much as he feared his son's reaction to these news, it would still be better if he told him himself than if Erik learned it from somebody else.

"Why can't she leave him alone since she did not want his love?" he cursed inwardly, knowing well enough that he was being unfair, for whatever this Daaé-woman's reason for performing again, he did not think it likely that she knew Erik was now in Rome and was coming here for the sole purpose of spiting him. Still, her presence would cause his boy pain.

Would Erik want to see her? Giovanni feared as much. He did not think it would be wise, but he had a feeling Erik would not be able to pass up on the chance of seeing her again. But would he content himself with attending one of her performances or would he want to see her in person, talk to her? Would he want to bring her flowers to her dressing room or would he want to meet her for a private lunch? In Giovanni's opinion the best thing to do for Erik would be to stay as far away from her as possible. He had a feeling, though, that in this particular case Erik would listen to his own heart, not to his father's advice.

And the woman? What would she do if Erik tried to approach her, for instance by bringing flowers to her dressing room? Somehow Giovanni doubted she would be flattered to have her former teacher and suitor show up and congratulate her on her achievements. She probably would be accompanied by her husband, and there was certainly no love lost between the Vicomte and his Erik.

One thing was certain, though: This woman's unexpected presence in Rome would cause Erik pain. The boy would need all the love and support Giovanni could give in order to get through this without another major heart-break.

Giovanni suddenly was not in the mood for shopping anymore. He needed to see Erik, break the news to him gently. He shuddered at the thought that Erik might hear about his love's imminent guest performances from someone else, unprepared.

Erik would be home soon. It was getting dark and he would have to stop working any moment now for lack of light. Giovanni hastened home. He was nervous. What should he say? How could he phrase the information to hurt Erik as little as possible? "I'll just need to be there for him and show him my love and support," he thought, "but oh, how I wish I could spare the boy the pain!"

Xxxx

Erik was not yet home when Giovanni reached their house. He nervously paced in the sitting room, waiting for his son, one moment thinking about what he would say to Erik, the next moment cursing the diva for coming to Rome.

When Erik finally arrived a few minutes later, Giovanni was a wreck. Erik immediately sensed that something was wrong. "What is the matter, padre Giovanni?" he asked, concerned. "Have you had some bad news?"

Giovanni tried to compose himself, with little success. "Yes, no…" he mumbled, "that is…" Erik was getting really worried now. Why was his father so upset? "Angela?" he asked. "Has something happened to her or her family?"

Giovanni shook his head. "No, no. Nothing like that." He glanced up at his tall adopted son and begged him, "sit down, Erik, and promise me to remain calm." Erik paled. "Me?" he asked. "This is about me? Has the Vicomte finally found me and sent his gendarmes?"

Giovanni just continued to implore him. "Please Erik," he repeated. "Sit down and relax, then I will tell you everything. But it's not that."

Erik was curious now, so he obediently sat down, waiting anxiously for the news he was about to hear. Giovanni cleared his throat, then looked his son in the eyes. "It's her, Erik," he whispered. "She is coming here for the Carnival Season opening."

Understanding washed through Erik, filling his heart with an ecstatic joy and a sharp pain at the same time. "Christine?" he whispered, the name sounding like a caress. "She is coming here?" His heart sang at the prospect of being able to see her again, if only from afar, to hear her sing again, but he also remembered the pain she had caused him when she had chosen Raoul over him.

Giovanni nodded. "I am afraid, so," he said. "I passed by the opera today and there was this huge poster," he explained. "She is advertised like the best thing since sliced bread. They call her the soprano of the century and such. Apparently she has performed in other cities as well to cheering crowds," he finished. "I did not want you to accidentally hear this from somebody else," he added after a few minutes of silence. "I wanted you to be prepared."

Erik sat there in shock. Not in a thousand years would he have expected Christine to continue her career as a singer after she married the Vicomte. Even less would he have thought that she would travel around and perform abroad. "Why?" he asked. "How come she is performing again?"

Giovanni sighed. "I do not know Erik," he stated. "It may be the attention, or it may be money, or it may be something else entirely. I have wondered about that as well."

"Her husband," Erik continued, "the Vicomte, will he be with her?" Giovanni shrugged. "There was no mention of him, but then, I guess, nobody cares about a diva's husband. He will probably accompany her. At least it would be the proper thing to do for him to accompany her," he added as an afterthought.

Erik nodded. He agreed with Giovanni. If a nobleman allowed his wife to appear on stage abroad, he most definitely should accompany her, otherwise her reputation would suffer. "We need tickets," he stated flatly.

Giovanni sighed. He had feared as much. "So you want to go see her?" he asked. "Do you think that is wise? Seeing her will just remind you of the past, bring back painful memories."

A shadow passed over Erik's features. "I know," he whispered. "But I will be able to see her again, the sunshine of my life, the one that could have made me the happiest man on earth, the one whose name will be my last dying breath. And I will be able to hear her sing again." For a fleeting moment he relived those last moments in his lair again, when he had suddenly felt her lips upon his. He had forgotten everything then for a little while, lost in the sheer ecstasy of that kiss. Her lips had parted, allowed his tongue to explore her mouth. Oh, how sweet she had tasted!

That kiss had brought him to his senses. He had suddenly understood the wrongness of his twisted plan. She had willingly kissed a hideous murderous monster to save her lover's life. He had known then that he could not ask this sacrifice of her and he had let her go. Doing so had nearly killed him, but he had survived, and despite all the pain he had suffered because of Christine and her betrayal he still loved her.

"It was not her fault," he uttered, "that she could not love me. One cannot tell the heart who it should love, and I certainly cannot blame her that she did not want me, the hideous, disfigured psychopath. If I had understood that then, it would not have hurt as much that she chose somebody else."

Giovanni put an arm around Erik to comfort his shaken son. "You are not a psychopath. At least not anymore. And looks do not matter. The qualities of the heart are much more important. Any woman must be glad to find a man that loves her as much as you love this Christine. If she were a wise woman, she would not have passed you over for your face. "

"Father, please," Erik begged. "You do not know her. Do not judge her like that. And please, try to get tickets. I'll pay them from my money, I do not care how much they cost, I need to see her again, to see for myself that she is happy and successful. Will you do this for me, mio padre?"

Giovanni nodded. "Of course, Erik. Anything. You shall see her, since it means so much to you, but please, promise me that you will not get your hopes up that she may want you this time."

A tortured expression passed across Erik's features and lingered at the bottom of his eyes. "I know that, padre," he said. "If I had seen any chance of her ever changing her mind on my account I would never have let her go. I know that she is lost to me forever. I just want to see her and hear her voice one more time."


	17. Performance

Chapter 16 – Performance

The next day Giovanni went to buy two tickets for the opening night of "Luisa Miller". It was not easy to secure the two seats, since a huge contingent of tickets was blocked for the King's entourage, but the fact that Erik had designed and built villas for two or three high-ranking advisors of the Sovereign made things a bit easier.

Once Erik knew they had the tickets and he therefore would most definitely see his Christine on the stage of the Roman Opera House, he got extremely nervous. He had not seen her in over four years, had not heard her sing since that ill-fated performance of his own "Don Juan Triumphant". In his mind she still was the same as she had been then. His heart still loved the young woman from so long ago. Would reality live up to his memories? Would she still be the way he remembered her? Had she changed much those past few years? Or had he been glorifying the memory of her in his thoughts and she had never really been as perfect as she was in his dreams?

Erik also wondered what Christine's voice would sound like. Did she still remember all he had taught her? Had she continued to practice and improve her technique or had she become a bit negligent? Was her voice still as sweet and clear as he remembered it or had it developed, grown? Somehow Erik was convinced that it would make him very happy if her voice and performance were still up to his own high standards. Somehow this would mean that despite everything there was a connection between them, and that thus her singing would be a testament to the union of his spirit and her voice. If only,…. Erik sighed. If only she still followed his many advices. If only she had not abandoned his teachings when she had banned him from her life.

What would she look like? Close to five years had passed since he had last seen her and surely she must have changed a bit. How soon after that fatal night had she and the Vicomte got married? Had she maybe had a child in the meantime? If so, would she have her offspring with her or just her husband? Had she found the happiness she had sought or not? Erik was not quite sure which of these possibilities he would prefer. If she were happy, he would have to be glad for her, but seeing her joy at being married to another man would certainly hurt him. Seeing her unhappy, though, would cause him pain for her sake, while the knowledge that the Vicomte had not been such a good choice after all, would give him a certain feeling of satisfaction.

The closer the day came when he would finally see and hear Christine again, the more nervous and restless Erik got. One moment he wished time would pass faster so that his longing for her would finally find some fulfillment, the next moment he wished that day would never come, fearing disappointment to set in, should the Christine of today turn out to be too different from the one he knew.

Several times, when the weather was so bad he could not continue his work at the construction site, he was tempted to go and keep watch on the Opera House. Surely rehearsals must have begun by now, his Christine must be in town and if he kept watch around the theater, sooner or later he might glimpse her on her way to or from a rehearsal or costume fitting. But as much as he wanted to see her, he feared being seen and recognized by her even more. Of course he looked slightly different with his rubber mask, but he had no doubt that Christine would not be fooled. Should she spot him in the streets of Rome, she would know he was here and Erik was not eager to learn how she would react to that discovery. Considering that the Vicomte was most likely with her, being seen by them would be downright dangerous for Erik.

Erik knew that his only chance to see Christine would be during her performances. Should reality live up to his memories, he was fairly certain he would not miss one of them. Sold out or not, he would find a way, and if it meant he had to call in a few favors.

Xxxx

Christine was feeling hopeless one again. She had come to Italy with such high hopes of finding her angel here, but after having performed in three different cities she still had not been able to locate him. Tomorrow she would once again stand on the stage of a city in which she had not sung yet., and while this fact should have filled her with excitement, she was preparing herself for yet another disappointment.

How many times had she been full of hope when going onstage, only to have all those hopes abolished when she felt alone in front of the audience one again, without sensing the comfort of her angel's presence. Would tomorrow be any different? She seriously doubted it. And if tomorrow night would pass like all those countless other opening nights in all those other cities had, she would still have to stay here in Rome for a few more weeks. She was under contract till the end of February, therefore she would not be able to leave for the next town in almost two months. With rehearsals and all that she would not be able to try out another town until some time in March.

Christine sighed. Somehow she had convinced herself that Rome would prove yet another failure, that tomorrow night, after the performance and the reception she would have to attend afterwards she would lie in her bed and cry herself to sleep yet again, as she had done so many times.

Christine looked out of the window. Rome was such a beautiful city and under other circumstances she would have greatly enjoyed living here for a while. She could see the Tiber from her window, which the locals called "Tevere", and in the distance the impressive Castel Sant'Angelo loomed. A building named after an angel! When she had first heard about this fortress, she had taken its name as an omen that her angel might be here. How naïve of her! Christine shook her head. As if the names of buildings had any influence on the success of her search or lack thereof. No, chances that Erik would be here were just as slim as ever and she mentally prepared herself for yet another opening night without him, to whom every note she sang was dedicated, he, who had taught her to sing, had formed and nurtured her talent and had taken her heart with him when they parted.

Xxxx

Giovanni felt relief when the morning of the Opera Gala finally arrived. His poor boy had reached such a state of nervous restlessness that it was painful to watch. Whatever the evening would bring, Giovanni thought, at least this tension would be gone. Secretly he hoped that the woman either would be nothing like Erik remembered her so that his son would finally be able to shake off this impossible dream of his, or she would be so obviously happy that Erik would have to accept that he had done the right thing by letting her go. In that case he would have to make his son see that he had caused her happiness and maybe that would make Erik at least a bit proud and content, if not downright happy. But this uncertainty that haunted his son right now was unbearable. Anything else would be preferable and the gala tonight would bring a solution to this, one way or another.

Erik entered, looking slightly nervous. "Padre," he began hesitantly, "you know that I promised to leave Christine alone and never to bother her again. I will therefore not be able to go to her dressing room after the performance and offer her flowers, but would you…" he looked at Giovanni pleadingly.

"Povero ragazzo," (poor boy) Giovanni thought. He had understood quite well, what Erik had not dared ask of him. "You want me to go to her and bring her flowers, since you cannot?" he softly asked.

Erik nodded. "Would you…?" He once again did not finish his question. Giovanni sighed. He did not really like that idea. After all, he was close to seventy years old and way past the age of swooning over famous opera divas. He would not feel too comfortable playing the drooling fan. But on the other hand he also knew that talking to this woman might give him a chance to learn a bit more about her, find out if her husband was with her or maybe why she was performing at all. Erik would be grateful for every morsel of information. So he finally agreed. "For you, Erik," he said. "I will do this for you, my son."

"I will go and get flowers, then," Erik mumbled. God, was he nervous! If he had his druthers he would have bought her a huge bouquet of red roses, but he knew that this would not only be highly inappropriate but might also arouse her suspicions as to the real identity of the donor. He therefore chose a lovely little basket with flowers all shades from white to dark pink, with one single red rose among them, as if there by accident.

Xxxx

In the evening, father and son, both dressed to the nines arrived at the Opera House and took their seats. Since this was a gala with the King in attendance, everybody had to have taken their seats before His Majesty's arrival. Once the king had entered his box, the orchestra played the national anthem and only then could the performance begin.

Erik had not been as tense in a long time. He felt like the overture would never end. How much longer till his Christine would appear? He suffered through another few minutes listening to the opening chorus, when she finally appeared at the side of the baritone who was playing Luisa's father.

"O care amiche," (oh dear friends) Christine as Luisa greeted the choir and Erik's heart was almost bursting with love. If anything, she was even more beautiful than he remembered her. She has grown up since he had seen her last. The woman on the stage was not the little girl anymore that he had known. Her face now radiated a maturity and wisdom she had not possessed yet when she had left him. Her glorious dark curls still framed her lovely face like a halo and her voice! Oh God, her voice. Christine's voice exceeded all his hopes and dreams by far. She had not only remembered all his teachings, she had perfected her technique even more and refined the sound of her voice.

But it was not just that. There was something else he at first could not quite define, when he realized she sang with all her heart now and imbued the character with life in a way she had never been able to do before. Before she had been merely brilliant, now she was sublime. She conveyed every emotion of Luisa as if she were feeling it herself. Of course, there was a lot about Luisa that Christine would be familiar with. Luisa's devotion to her father for one thing. And love… Erik winced. Of course, Christine would also be able to understand love, both, the happiness of it and the despair it could cause. How jubilant she sounded when she sang that the hearts of Luisa and her lover had been made in heaven explicitly to love each other! Erik was convinced that Christine must be thinking of the Vicomte right now. After all, it seemed as if they had been destined to be together, none of his machinations had been able to pull them apart. "She loves him," Erik thought, "and she is happy." And while he tried to force himself to be happy for her, his heart bled.

Xxxx

Christine had prepared for the performance as she always did. She had put on her costume and run through her warm-up routine and was ready to go on-stage. She was nervous, not because of the role she had to sing, no, she was well prepared, she knew every single note by heart and probably could sing any part of it at any given time without any additional preparation. No, she was nervous, because in a few minutes she would know if her angel was here or if she would have to continue her search for him in yet another town. The King's late arrival did not really help.

Mme. Giry sniled at her encouragingly. "Don 't fret, Christine," she said. "We'll find him eventually. Concentrate on your role now, we will worry about the rest later." Christine nodded. It was time to go onstage anyway.

The baritone was already waiting for her in the wings. "Break a leg, signorina," he wished her and she nodded. "The same to you!" Then the choir finished the introduction and the two of them went out together.

"O care amiche," Christine sang her first line, when she almost stopped dead in her tracks. At the last moment she remembered that she was in the middle of a gala performance. Her next few lines came out almost automatically, while she relished a feeling she had not had in many years. Never before had she been so happy to feel those eyes o her, those eyes that burned – with love for her. For there was no doubt in her heart that he was here, somewhere in the audience, listening to her every note, following her every movement.

"Angel," her heart whispered, "Erik, my love, at last! Now all will be well, now I'll finally be able to tell you, how much I love you!" And she jubilantly broke into Luisa's first big solo number, the song about the two hearts that had been predestined to love each other when they had been created in heaven. Christine put all her love into this song, after all, she now was sure that the words she was singing applied to her and Erik as well. They were destined for each other, nothing would be able to keep them apart, now that she had found out where he had gone. Now they would finally be united.

Later Christine never knew how she got through this first scene. She was so excited, she wanted to run from the stage right into the audience and look for Erik- Once she was finished with this scene and could exit the stage, she threw herself into Mme. Giry's arms, who was waiting for her in the wings. Mme. Giry's words of praise for the wonderful first song died on her lips when she realized her surrogate daughter's agitation.

"What…?" Mme. Giry could not finish her sentence, since Christine interrupted her. "He is here!" she whispered, excitedly. "I knew it the moment I went onstage. I almost missed my mark. Oh Mme. Giry! We have found him!"

The former ballet mistress hugged her tight. "I knew it," she said, smiling. "I knew we would find him sooner or later." Then she tried to calm Christine down, reminding her that tonight's opera was far from over and that she would soon have to go onstage again and sing the rest of her role.

"I know," Christine beamed, radiant with new-found hope. "But now I will be singing for him. After all those years I will be singing for my angel again!"

Xxxx

The performance was drawing to a close. Luisa and her Rodolfo had been driven apart by betrayal, but their hearts still held the same love. Only in the face of death did they learn the truth and they died loving each other. Christine moved everybody to tears with her performance. "It almost did end that way for us as well," she thought, while singing Luisa's last lines."If I had not found my angel, we might have died loving each other instead of living together."

Once the star-crossed lovers had finally died and the orchestra played the last note, there was a moment of silence then a storm of applause broke loose. The audience was captivated by the new diva and overwhelmed by the heroine's tragic fate.

Giovanni looked at Erik. His son was a mess, in prey of love, longing, despair and a feeling of loneliness. "We'd better go home now, son," Giovanni said. Erik tried to somewhat compose himself. "The flowers," he whispered. "You promised…"

Giovanni sighed. Erik looked desperate. He wanted her to have those flowers ad he also wanted to get news of her. "Fine," he acquiesced. "I will talk to her and give her those flowers, but you promise to go home right now and rest." As he saw Erik's reluctance to do as he asked, he added softly, "I'll tell you everything once I am home."

Giovanni picked up the flowers and asked his way to the diva's dressing room. "I won't have to lie to her," he thought, "when I will give those flowers to her and congratulate her on her performance, She truly is sublime. And to think that it was my Erik who trained her voice to sound like that! But it is obvious that she is happy and very much in love. Nobody could put that much raw emotion into singing as she did, if they were not understanding what the character is going through. Obviously her experiences with her two suitors and the danger my poor by has put through them, her and her lover, has enabled her to understand Luisa's predicament." He sighed. In his opinion it was obvious that the diva's love had overcome all adversities and that she was now a very happy woman.

"My poor boy," Giovanni thought, "I can see why he would love her. She is pretty, talented and capable of strong feelings. But I also can see clearly that she is unattainable for him."


	18. Dressing Room

So you liked the last chapter? But you did not think they met? They were in the same room, for Heaven's sake! Erik saw and heard her and Christine sensed his presence. You wanted them to hug and kiss and say fluffy stuff to each other? Hang in there, that will happen. Eventually.

Abig thank you to all of you for reading, reviewing, alerting and favoriting this story. Your support is very much appreciated. I would tell you once again that I don't own... you know the routine. But you are all anxious to read how Giovanni meets his future daughter-in-law...

Chapter 17 – Dressing Room

When Giovanni reached Christine's dressing room, a rather large group of men was already waiting for the young diva, so he had to get in line. He glanced at Christine's other admirers. Most of them were considerably younger than he was, in their mid- to late twenties or early thirties, only two or three were around Erik's age. Giovanni sighed. It suddenly occurred to him that on top of everything else there was also a rather large age difference between his adopted son and Erik's former student.

A lady, who seemed to be close in age to his daughter Angela, and apparently was a confident or assistant of the young soprano, allowed one man after the other to enter the star's dressing room and exchange a few words with her. Since the line advanced rather quickly, Giovanni soon understood that he would not be able to spend much time with her.

Finally it was his turn. He entered the small dressing room and at last saw his son's beloved from up close. The young diva was wearing a dressing robe, her beautiful curls were freely hanging down her shoulders and she was not wearing any stage make-up anymore. She was gorgeous nevertheless, her animated features and expressive eyes captivated Giovanni. What was most obvious to him, though, was a certain feeling of anticipation and excitement that emanated from the young woman.

"She is waiting for someone," Giovanni thought, "and she is not hiding it too well." Of course he suspected that the young singer was being anxious for her admirers to leave her so that she could be with her husband.

"Congratulazioni, signora," (Congratulations, Madam) Giovanni said, offering Christine the flowers Erik had bought for her, "this was an extraordinary performance." Christine gave him a startled look. Why did this old fellow address her as if she were a married woman?

"Signorina," (Miss) she corrected Giovanni, blushing with embarrassment. "Non sono sposata." (I am not married). Now it was Giovanni's turn to feel awkward. "Mi scusi," (pardon me) he stammered. "I thought.. I must have misunderstood…" He furtively glanced at Christine's hands and noticed that she was not wearing any rings.

Christine smiled at him politely and accepted the flowers, when the next young man was led in by Mme. Giry and Giovanni had to leave.

"Good evening, Sir," Christine welcomed her new admirer, putting aside the basket of flowers this strange old man, who had thought she was married, had handed to her just a few moments ago, when her eyes fell on the single red rose among all those white and pink flowers.

Christine paled, staring at the rose. Suddenly it all made sense. The only person in all of Rome that might think that Christine was married, was her angel. Therefore if that old man had addressed her as "Signora" he probably had talked about her with Erik. There must be some connection between that man and her angel, he had been a messenger of sorts, bringing her the customary red rose that her former teacher had always offered her after a performance.

"Excuse me for a moment," Christine told her next fan, then she went to Mme. Giry and whispered into her ear. "Try to find that old man that just left, if possible, bring him back, or try at least to find out, who he is, he must be in contact with Erik!" Mme. Giry nodded and went out to look for the elderly gentleman that had left Christine only a minute or so ago. She thought she saw him turning around the next corner and hurried that way.

A group of patrons blocked her way, and when she had finally reached the corner, the man she was looking for had disappeared. Frustrated, she turned back, hoping that one of the other men waiting to congratulate Christine on her fantastic performance would be able to tell her who that gentleman had been, but to her dismay, she found Christine alone. The young diva had politely asked her young admirers to proceed to the foyer, where the reception would start shortly, since she had to get ready for this event.

Mme. Giry found her surrogate daughter dreamily looking at a basket full of white and pink flowers, her fingers delicately caressing a single red rose in the middle of all the lighter colored flowers. "Angel," Christine whispered, "why did you not come yourself? Why did you send this strange old man? Is it because you think I am married? Did you fear to find me with Raoul?"

Christine looked up when Mme. Giry entered. "Did you find that man?" she asked anxiously. Mme. Giry shook her head and explained how she had been detained but had hoped to find out about the man's identity at her return to the dressing room, but that unfortunately, all the other enthusiastic young men had left by then.

Christine sighed. "We must find that man again," she said. "Hopefully he will be at the reception. I am sure he was sent to me by Erik. He thought I was married," she winced. "Of course my dear angel would not come to see me if he feared to run into Raoul in doing so, but he found a way to send me my rose…"

Mme. Giry gasped. She had not noticed the rose before, but now that Christine pointed it out to her, she had to agree that Christine's reasoning made sense. She cursed inwardly that she had not been able to catch the mysterious stranger in the hallway. He might have been their best chance of actually finding her male protegé.

"You need to get dressed for the reception," she reminded Christine. "Maybe we will see Erik's messenger there, or if not, maybe I can find out who he was." Christine nodded wearily. She was not convinced. If Erik thought that she was married, he most likely had taken precautions so that she would not find him. The messenger had probably been under orders to leave as fast as possible after delivering the flowers and to make sure he was not followed.

Xxxx

Giovanni hurried home. He was worried about Erik. His son had been shaken to his core by tonight's events and Giovanni had a feeling as if his boy would need his support. Giovanni also mulled over the diva's words. How come she had told him she was not married? Was this true – or was it a publicity trick to increase her appeal to rich, young patrons? She had not been wearing a ring either, thus publicly displaying the fact that she was unattached – yet her expressive singing had lead him to believe that she was deeply in love and he had had a feeling as if she had been waiting for someone, a man. How did all this fit together? What should he tell Erik?

When Giovanni arrived at their home, he found Erik in front of the piano, coaxing wild, passionate melodies from the old instrument. The moment Giovanni entered, Erik interrupted his playing and looked questioningly at his adoptive father. He was quite visibly agitated and Giovanni was worried. He remembered what Erik had told him about the madness that had engulfed him when his former student had developed feelings for her childhood friend, and he feared that seeing her again might have had a similar effect on his son.

He went to Erik and put an arm around the younger man's shoulder. "Relax, figlio," (son) he said. "I cannot tell you anything when you are so tense." Erik let Giovanni lead him to a chair and accepted the glass of water his adoptive father made him drink. He tried to at least appear calm, so that Giovanni would tell him about his meeting with Christine.

Giovanni sat down next to Erik and began his story. "Yes, I did see her," he told Erik, squeezing his son's hand to comfort the shaken man. "And yes, I did give her the flowers," he continued. When he saw the questioning look in Erik's eyes he added, "I understand you now. She is very pretty and charming, ad her voice is exquisite. I did not expect that I would enjoy the performance as much as I did, but she was phenomenal. Her voice is clear, sweet and pure, and she really brings her character to life." Giovanni hesitated. He wanted to add that to judge from her interpretation she must be in love and that he had had the impression that she was waiting for somebody, but he had a feeling that Erik would not take such observations too well in his current state of emotional upheaval.

"Did you see her husband?"Erik's question interrupted Giovanni's thoughts. "No," Giovanni shook his head. "The only men I saw were a bunch of young admirers, most of them younger than you are." He hesitated again. Should he repeat to Erik what the diva had told him? He would have preferred not to do that, but he knew that Erik would probably find out the truth sooner or later anyway, and it was definitely better if he heard it from him first.

"She said she is not married," Giovanni finally uttered. "What?" Erik jumped up, grasped Giovanni's shoulders and shook the old man. "What kind of conversation did you have with her?"

Giovanni smiled. "Calm down, Erik, it was harmless. I addressed her as "signora", since we thought she had married that Vicomte of hers, and she corrected me, saying it was "signorina" since she is not married. Just a few words, nothing too personal or inappropriate from my side." He looked at Erik. "Sit down, son," he said quietly. "Try to relax."

Giovanni waited a few minutes till Erik had returned to his chair and calmed down a bit. Then he continued. "I glanced at her fingers then and she did not wear any ring. And as I said, there was no husband, suitor or lover hanging around, just some type of maid or assistant, a lady of about Angela's age. She made sure we admirers went in one at a time and none of us stayed more than a few moments. Her Italian was poor, she spoke with a heavy accent. Come to think of it, she is probably French as well."

Erik looked up. He only knew one woman, who fit that description and might be with Christine at the moment. "Very erect posture, long braid?" he asked. Giovanni gave him a surprised look. "You know her?" Erik nodded. "Antoinette," he whispered. "It must have been Antoinette."

"Do you know where they stay?" Erik abruptly asked Giovanni. The latter shook his head. "Do you want to go and see them, Erik?" he asked, his voice thick with worry. "Do you think this is wise?"

Erik started pacing up and down the room. "I don't know," he uttered. "I wish I knew what I shall do now. If she really is not married," he growled, "if that blasted Vicomte has maybe used her and then abandoned her, if she is alone and needs a friend…."

Giovanni closed his eyes. He had feared Erik would react that way. Would he be able to keep his son safe under these circumstances? "First," he stated calmly, "even if things are as you said, are you sure she would want to see you of all people? From what you have told me, she was rather relieved when you let her go."

He slowly approached Erik and pulled his son close. "I love you, Erik," he said, "and I do not want to see you get hurt again." Erik nodded. He understood his father's concern, but his heart told him to run to Christine right away and offer her his support and friendship. And his heart. No, maybe not his heart. He had offered her that long ago and she had thrown it back at him.

"Second," Giovanni continued quietly. "What if this is a trap? What if she is with the Vicomte, but he is using her as bait again, forcing her to pass herself off as unmarried while making her travel from town to town, hoping that one day she will lure you out of hiding and that that way he will be able to finally catch you?"

Erik stiffened. His first impulse was to tell Giovanni that Christine would never allow the Vicomte to use her in that way, that she would refuse to participate in such a charade, then he remembered the night of "Don Juan Triumphant", where Christine had basically done the same thing that Giovanni feared she was doing now. Was it really so impossible that Giovanni was right?

A sob broke from Erik's chest and he hung his head. "You are right, padre," he whispered, desolately. Giovanni held him close. "Promise me that you won't act on impulse," he said. "She will be in town for a few more weeks, there is no hurry. Promise me that you will try to find out for sure whether or not she is in contact with the Vicomte, before you decide whether or not you want to see her." Erik nodded, while tears were running down his cheeks.

"Promise me you will be careful," Giovanni repeated. "I already lost one child, I do not want to risk losing you as well." A shadow passed over Erik's features at the memory of Luciana's violent death. "I promise," he whispered.

"Now go to bed, Erik," Giovanni told him. "Try and get some rest." Erik nodded obediently and started walking towards the door. Before leaving the room, he turned and faced his father once again. "I will go to her performances, though," he announced. "I may not be able to go to her and meet her in person, but I need to see her at least from afar and hear her glorious voice as often as possible." With that he left the room.

Giovanni sighed. He could understand Erik's point of view, but he was still worried. Was Erik walking into a trap?

Xxxx

Christine was getting restless again. She had been so excited to sense Erik's presence in the audience at the opening night. She had hoped that Erik would try to contact her, maybe even come to her dressing room. Instead a strange old man had addressed her as "signora" and brought her a red rose among dozens of white and pink flowers. She had been so certain that the old man had acted on Erik's behalf and that all it would take to find Erik was to look out for this stranger again and force him to give her the answers she needed.

Unfortunately, the old man had disappeared, before Mme. Giry could catch up with him, and their hopes to see him at the reception had not come true. Christine had hoped then that maybe Erik would send his messenger again at a later performance, but so far he had not made another appearance. Christine had sung three more performances, and while she knew without a doubt that Erik had been in the audience every single time, she had waited in vain for the return of the one person that would be able to tell her where in this huge city she could find her angel.

Christine looked at her flowers. The flowers that she was sure came from Erik. The little basket had been the only one of all the bouquets she had received at the opening night that she had taken home to their apartment. Having those flowers with her, almost gave her the feeling as if her Erik were near. "You are somewhere out there in Rome, Angel," she whispered. "I know it. And it is a good feeling to finally be in the same town again. But there is so much I have to tell you, so much we need to discuss. Please, Angel, don't stay away from me any longer, now that you know that 'I am not married, that I am free. I am waiting for you. I need you. I love you."

Christine had had to deal with admirers after each and every one of her performances, and after the incident with the old man she always made sure to pay attention to every single detail. What if Erik sent a different messenger the next time? Christine did not want to miss another opportunity to get in touch with Erik.

The latter seemed to be on his guard, though. Christine still received flowers, there even was the occasional lonely red rose half hidden among other flowers, but those bouquets now were sent from florists' shops and delivered by page boys who had no idea who had ordered the delivery of these flowers to the diva's dressing room.

Christine sighed. How was she to find Erik in this large city? She had already informed her manager that she wanted to stay in Rome for the foreseeable future and had approached the management of the Opera regarding possible future employment. She knew that they had somebody under contract for the next production, but after that… they certainly would be glad to see la signorina Daaé return for the production after that. Christine had saved enough money that she could afford not to work for a few months. She and Mme. Giry would simply stay in Rome and think of ways of finding Erik. Not having to work for a few weeks would certainly be helpful. It would allow her to explore the city, look around and hopefully find a trace of her long-lost love.

Christine barely looked up when Mme. Giry entered the room, a few pieces of mail in her hand. "Anything important?" Christine asked without real interest. The only thing that would be important was a letter from Erik, and she was sure there was no such thing in her mail.

Mme. Giry shook her head. "No, just the usual. Bills, requests by young self proclaimed music enthusiasts to meet them for dinner, and your invitation to this big carnival event you promised to attend." Christine sighed. Being a famous diva had its perks, but it also brought with it a lot of obligations and representational duties. She hated festivities and would have preferred to stay home with Mme. Giry on her free evenings, but it had been impossible to decline this particular invitation. Listlessly she picked up the elegant card. Suddenly she smiled. "Celebrazione di Carnevale" she read (carnival celebration), "ballo mascherato." (masked ball)


	19. Masquerade

Wow! So many reviews! And everybody is impatiently waiting for the next chapter! Thank you all very much! This story has now more story alerts than any of my previous stories ever had and it has the highest review per chapter-ratio of all my stories. Thank you all for your support. I know I have been mean by delaying the actual meeting between our two lovebirds, but there's now light at the end of the tunnel…

I just want to tell you that I got the DVD of the Australian production of "Love Never Dies" this week. I cried buckets watching it. The sets and costumes are fabulous, the two leads have incredible chemistry, both, with each other and with the little boy, who plays Gustave. The boy is adorable, but then, Christine's and Erik's son would have to be, right?

Anyway, I don't own anything or anybody, nothing new about that.

Chapter 18 – Masquerade

"A Masquerade," Christine said dreamily, remembering the New Year's Eve Ball at the Opera Populaire five years ago. She should have known then. The way she had been drawn to Erik when she finally saw him again after he had stayed away from her for months should have told her that it was him she really wanted. "I should have listened to my instincts, to my heart," she thought. "My heart always knew where it belonged."

She looked up, hope in her eyes. "Do you think," she hesitantly asked Mme. Giry. "I mean, it's a public event, but everybody will be wearing masks, so it would be possible, would it not..?"

Mme. Giry smiled at her. She understood perfectly what Christine meant. "That Erik might attend the ball?" she finished her surrogate daughter's question. "It is certainly possible, and I hope he will be there. For all our sakes," she added. Her two protégés had suffered enough and deserved a chance to finally be together, and she had to admit that she missed Erik, too. She loved him like a brother and was anxious to learn how he had fared those past five years.

"It might be a good idea to somehow let him know that you will be there," Mme. Giry suggested. "I somehow do not think he would pass up on such a chance to meet you." Christine liked that idea. "But how..?" How on earth could they let Erik know that she would attend the Carnival Ball, since they had no knowledge where he was staying? Fortunately, Mme. Giry had a solution for that as well. "I'll talk to the organizers and ask them to put a short note up in the papers. I am sure they'll do this, I'll tell them we want it for publicity reasons and they would draw a larger crowd for the ball if it was known that the famous diva will be there."

Xxxx

Two days later, when Erik was looking through the newspaper, a rather large picture of Christine caught his eyes. He quickly read the short note underneath the picture. "This year's Carnival Masquerade will be graced by the presence of Rome's new favorite prima donna, la signorina Christine Daaé. The singer has confirmed her attendance and is looking forward to a typical Roman carnival experience."

Erik put down the paper and faced his adoptive father. "We will have to attend the Mascherata this year," he stated, holding the newspaper out for Giovanni to see the note. Giovanni sighed. He understood that Erik would want this chance to meet Christine, but was it save for him to do so?

"I guess, we will," he confirmed. "Since you don't expect me to let you go there alone, and I know that you will go, no matter what. Just keep in mind that we do not know yet, whether or not this is a trap. Be careful around her. She probably would recognize your voice, would she not?"

Erik nodded. It would be a challenge not to reveal his identity to her, but he was confident that Christine would be so caught up in the hustle and bustle of the ball that she would not be able to pay attention to every single attendee. "I will be careful," he promised. "But I need to see her there."

Giovanni did not like this at all. What good could possibly come from them attending the masquerade? Erik would only long for this woman even more than he already did, and since it did not seem very likely that she would suddenly return Erik's feelings when so far she had tried her best to escape from him, he feared that his son was setting himself up for yet more pain and suffering. "I will praise the day when the run of this production will be over and this woman will finally leave Rome," he thought. "My boy has been through enough for a whole lifetime, he does not need her to cause him even more heart-break."

Xxxx

The closer the day of the ball came, the more nervous Christine got. Had Erik read the note in the papers? Would he therefore be at the masquerade? When she reminded herself that he loved her and would not miss such a chance, she was full of joy, looking forward to seeing him again, but the next moment she gave in to doubts and despair again. What if he stayed away from her again, as he had done all those weeks now that she had been performing at the opera? While he had not missed one single performance, he had not come to her dressing room even once. What if her angel did not attend the ball after all?

Mme. Giry interrupted Christine's thoughts. "I talked to Francesca from the costume department at the opera," she announced. "We are free to look through their storage and pick costumes for the ball. Surely you want to look your best, just in case a certain acquaintance of ours might be there?" she teased Christine.

Five minutes later, the two ladies were on their way to the opera house, where Francesca showed them to the large vaults, where costumes from previous productions were stored. Both ladies soon found clothes that were to their liking. Mme. Giry chose an austere robe which had been used in a production of "I Puritan", while Christine picked a marvelous dark blue robe with stars embroidered all over the skirt with a silvery thread, and a matching headpiece in the shape of the moon crescent to go with it. The costume had been made for the Queen of the Night in Mozart's "Magic Flute" three decades ago.

Once Christine put on the dress, both, Mme. Giry and Francesca were in awe. "Signorina, with this robe, you would be the queen of the ball, even if you were not the famous prima donna that you are," Francesca whispered. "You will certainly turn the heads of all our young men!"

Christine smiled. She only cared about one man, and she had a feeling that he would be pleased with her outfit for more than one reason. Sure, she looked extremely pretty in that dress, but it also had symbolic value that it had been made for the character of the Queen of the Night. Night meant darkness, and darkness had always been her angel's realm, and the song he had sung for her when he finally revealed himself to her had been about night and its music.

"You will need a dark-blue mask to go with this costume," Francesca advised, "and I'll help you to attach a few small stars to it. You will look absolutely fabulous, signorina!"

Xxxx

The big day of the masquerade finally arrived. Christine and Mme. Giry put on their costumes and masks, hired a carriage and went to Palazzo Farnese, where the ball was to take place. It soon became obvious to them that this would be a very crowded event. Apparently half of Rome was there to celebrate the carnival, to observe, to flirt under the cover of masks, to try and guess who was who, to gossip, to dance and to enjoy the food and drinks.

Christine was getting nervous again. There were hundreds of people, probably more than a thousand. How on earth should she be able to spot Erik in this crowd? She had a feeling that unlike the last time he had been to a masked ball, this time he would not make a big entrance and draw all eyes on him. If indeed he did attend that ball.

Even though Christine only knew a handful of people in Rome, she soon found herself in the middle of things. The opera manager introduced her to the mayor, who in turn had some relations and acquaintances that were dying to meet her. Christine smiled engagingly and suffered through some rather bland conversation, while her eyes kept searching the crowd for Erik. She politely declined a few invitations to dance, stating that she would like to first have a look at everything. Maybe later she would want to dance.

Christine was talking to an elderly Contessa (countess), when she suddenly felt two eyes staring at her. She turned to see, who was observing her like that and almost fainted. Her heartbeat raced, when she spotted the two men that had just entered the ballroom. Both were dressed in black, both wore identical black full masks. The shorter one was obviously an older man. He seemed vaguely familiar, but Christine did not waste any time guessing where she might have seen him. The taller one… Christine would have recognized him anywhere. She almost thought her heart would burst with joy, when her eyes finally looked upon her angel again, for the first time since the night of the fire.

Even though Erik's entire face was covered by his black mask, Christine knew without any doubt that it was him. Nobody else moved with the grace of a panther like he did, and his mismatched eyes were impossible to ignore. For a moment their eyes met. Christine felt like she would want to run over to Erik and throw herself into his arms, but somehow her feet did not move.

When Erik noticed Christine looking at him, he felt joy and anxiety at the same time. His first instinct was to hide and stay out of her way, then his longing took over. "It is a masquerade," he thought. "She cannot know that I am in Rome, and the mask covers my entire face. I am unrecognizable. This may be my one chance to get near her again." And drawn towards her by his own heart's longing and desire like a moth to the flame, he slowly walked towards Christine, leaving an exasperated Giovanni behind.

Once he reached Christine, he bowed in front of her, murmuring "Signorina," to ask her for a dance. Christine blushed underneath her dark blue mask and nodded, accepting the offer. She was unable to speak, overwhelmed by her beloved angel's presence.

Erik led Christine to the dance floor, took her into his arms and they began to waltz. Christine melted into his arms. How long had she waited for this moment, how many times had she dreamed of lying in Erik's arms again! But not for a moment had she expected it to be like this. It felt so right, as if she had finally found home. She knew Erik was holding her as close as propriety would allow him to, and she could sense every movement of his well-muscled body. Yet she would have wanted him to hold her even closer, to never let her go again. She inhaled deeply the musky scent of his eau-de-cologne. How she had missed it! She sensed Erik's eyes on her, adoring her, drinking in her beauty, and she was inundated by the intensity of love for her that he exuded.

Erik felt in heaven. Not in his wildest dreams had he imagined he would ever be able to hold Christine in his arms again, but encouraged by the protection of the concealing mask, he had dared approach her and ask her for a dance and she had accepted. It was of course impossible that she knew who he was. She probably had to dance with a certain number of Roman citizens, and had not reached that quota yet. When she blushed under his adoring gaze, he thought that maybe she was looking for a rich patron that she might eventually marry – since she had told Giovanni that she was unmarried.

Erik did not care one way or another. He held Christine in his arms again, he could smell her discreet perfume, enjoy the sight of her unruly dark curls crowned by the silver crescent of the moon and dream about what it might be like to hold her like that for all eternity. How he wanted to whisper words of love into her ears, but he knew that this would not be wise. She might recognize his voice after all, and he was determined not to reveal his identity to her.

Many eyes followed the dancing couple. It had not gone unnoticed that the prima donna had previously declined all invitations to a dance, and now she was abandoning herself in the arms of her partner as if they belonged to each other. The gentleman she was dancing with also held her in a possessive way, that made many people guess that these two knew each other. "What a beautiful couple," a group of old ladies murmured. "They look like they are made for one another!" A group of young men on the other hand, jealously commented on "the lucky devil" that got such preferred treatment from the prima donna.

Once the dance was over, Erik led Christine from the dance floor, bowed to thank her for the dance and disappeared into the crowd. As much as he wished to spend more time with her, he knew that by doing so he would either compromise her or reveal himself to her, probably both. So he left her and returned to Giovanni, who had observed the whole dance.

When Erik bowed and left after the dance, Christine was paralyzed with shock. She had been so certain that he would stay by her side. If she had had any doubts that he still loved her, the way he had held her during their dance, the way his expressive eyes had looked at her, were proof enough of his feelings for her. He most definitely still loved her. Then why did he leave her, after she had melted into his arms like that to show him how much she enjoyed being in his arms again?

She followed Erik with her eyes and saw him approach the older black-clad gentleman, who had arrived at the ball together with him. He had seemed vaguely familiar before, now suddenly she knew where she had seen that man before. The opening night, the old man with the flowers that had most likely come from Erik, the man who had thought she was married! So she had been right, this man knew Erik and had been her angel's messenger.

Mme. Giry approached her with a small cup of ice cream. "I saw you dance, Christine," she murmured. "I only got a glimpse of your dancing partner, but he looked like…" Christine nodded. "Yes. It was him. Erik. He is here with that old man who brought me the flowers on the opening night. They are making their way towards the door right now. Don't turn your head, they may be observing us." Mme. Giry cautiously glanced towards the door and spotted the two black-clad men.

"Eat your ice cream and then dance with a few other men," she told Christine. "You can't just dance with one, not even if the one is Erik. I will try in the meantime to find out who that old gentleman is. If we have his address, he will have to lead us to Erik."

Christine knew that Mme. Giry was right. After she had danced with Erik she had to accept a few other invitations to dance. She quickly finished her delicious vanilla-strawberry ice cream, then turned to a group of young men who were nervously staring at her. "You said you might want to dance later," one of them tried his luck. "Maybe now…?" Christine smiled and accepted his invitation. She danced with several more young men, thinking how dancing with them felt like a bothersome duty, while dancing with her angel had been pure ecstasy.

Half an hour later, she told her admirers that she needed a break and asked to be led from the dance floor towards where Mme. Giry was waiting for her.

As soon as the young man she had danced with last was out of earshot she addressed her surrogate mother. "Did you find out?"

Mme. Giry smiled. "Yes, I know everything. The first person I asked happened to know the man pretty well. In fact, he is kid of a competitor of his. The old gentleman is called Giovanni Nardini. He is the founder and owner of the renowned masonry company "Nardini & Son", though by now he is semi-retired and his son is running the business. Nardini has always been one of Rome's leading masons, but over the past four and a half years the Nardinis have surpassed their competitors and are now the number one in Rome. They get all the prestigious assignments and are so much in demand that they have to decline some job offers. That development began when Nardini's son started to work for the company." Mme. Giry made a pause for effect. "His adopted son," she added.

Christine looked up. "Erik?" she asked. Mme. Giry nodded. "Erik," she confirmed. "Erik is well-liked and well-respected in Roman society," she added. "He must have done something to his face. The gentleman I talked to said something about the right side of the younger Nardini's face looking like he had artificial skin on it and that common opinion was that he had been with Garibaldi and got seriously injured during the fights."

Christine looked at her foster mother questioningly. "But how… why did this signor Nardini adopt Erik?" Mme. Giry shrugged her shoulders. "I do not know. Supposedly Erik once was Nardini's apprentice some twenty or so years ago, and Nardini's younger daughter, her father's favorite, was sweet on him. She died in an accident, and supposedly both father and boyfriend felt responsible for her death which caused an estrangement between them, but when Erik came back from the battlefields they made peace and to honor his daughter's memory, Giovanni adopted his former son-in-law-to-be and thus turned him into his son and heir as he had always wanted him to become."

Christine paled visibly. "Do you think this story is true? Do you think Erik once loved this signor Nardini's daughter?" Mme. Giry smiled. "I do not know. Maybe Giovanni and Erik made up this story to explain their relationship. Even if there is some truth to it, she died long before you and Erik ever met, in fact, you were probably barely born at that time. Whatever happened between Erik and this girl is long behind him. There is only one woman now that he wants, and he danced with her today."


	20. Contact

Sorry, sorry, sorry! Please forgive me for not updating sooner, I know that you all have been waiting for the new chapter. Thank you all sooooo much for your reviews! They were especially appreciated when something here at the site was off and my stats did not show one single hit to any of my stories for two and a half days, while incoming reviews, alerts and favorites clearly showed me that people were reading! BTW, an award for funniest review goes to ktswaz. "I need more quickly" – I could not stop laughing when I read that!

Anyway… we are getting there, but slowly. And I still don't own anything or anybody.

Chapter 18 – Contact

As soon as Christine and Mme. Giry reached their home, the young woman's composure crumbled and she fell sobbing into her foster mother's arms. "Why," she wailed, "why did my angel not talk to me? When he held me in his arms and danced with me, I was so certain that he still loves me, but then he just bowed and left! It can't be because of Raoul. This Giovanni person must have told him that I am unmarried, so what is the problem?"

Mme. Giry wrapped her arms around the crying girl. "Christine, calm down. I am sure this can be explained. As to why he left… You did recognize Erik, but does he know that? Did you do or say anything that could have given him a hint that you knew who your dancing partner was?"

Christine thought for a moment, then shook her head. "I was too overwhelmed with joy at finally having found him. I could not speak, and while I abandoned myself into his arms, which might have told him that I relished dancing with him, he may of course also have interpreted it as me liking a tall, slender dancer."

Mme. Giry smiled. "I thought so. Since he did not talk to you, I suspect he was afraid of being recognized. Just think about your last encounter with Erik. Must he not think that you would be scared if you ever saw him again? Or that you might think that he is stalking you again and be mad at him? How on earth should the poor man guess that your feelings for him are not at all what he believes them to be and that you do love him after all?"

A faint smile played across Christine's features as hope resurged within her. "I forgot," she mumbled, "my angel cannot know that I love him after all. But what shall I do now? Do you think I can go to him and tell him?"

Mme. Giry gave her a disapproving look. "No, I don't think so," she said. "First, it would not be good for your reputation, especially since your dance with Erik tonight did not go unnoticed, and second, what makes you think he would want to see you? It is one thing to steal a dance under the protection of a mask, but something else entirely to meet the person you love, knowing – or at least thinking - that she does not return your feelings."

Christine had to admit that her foster mother was right. But she also knew that she needed to tell Erik about her love and ask him to forgive her for the pain she had caused him five years ago. Should she write to him? She quickly discarded that idea. No, she would have to personally tell Erik, to look into his expressive eyes and observe his reaction to her confession. "But how..?" Christine was at a loss what to do.

Mme. Giry smiled at her. "I will go to Erik tomorrow. Chances that he might talk to me are slightly higher than if you went yourself. I will tell him that you know he is in Rome and that you need to talk to him, you have something important to tell him. Remember, Erik is like my brother. Unless he has figured out that it was me who sent the Vicomte after the two of you that night, he probably still trusts me." She pulled Christine close again. "Don't worry, I won't tell him your secret, I know you want to do that yourself."

Christine agreed with this plan. Since it was very late already, the two ladies went to bed, but Christine did not find sleep for a long time. She could not help reliving the masquerade and her dance with Erik in her thoughts and to imagine what she would say to her angel, once she'd finally get a chance to talk to him.

Xxxxx

The next morning, once Erik had left to work on the construction site for a new municipal office building, Giovanni busied himself with some paperwork. A while later his housekeeper Marietta entered the study.

"I did not mean to interrupt you, Sir" she uttered nervously. "But there is a lady at the door asking for Master Erik. What am I to do?"

Giovanni was exasperated. The night before, Erik had been terribly agitated and Giovanni was certain that dancing with the diva had reawakened all sorts of dreams and desires in his son - dreams that could never become reality. Yes, that wench had seemed to melt into his boy's arms, but in Giovanni's eyes this only showed what a flirtatious vamp she was. Just like Erik, he was convinced that it was impossible that Christine had known who it was she had been dancing with. She certainly would not have allowed Erik to touch her, had she recognized him.

Was it possible that the woman asking for Erik now was her? If so, what did she want? Was she interested in getting to know her dancer from last night a bit better? Or if it was not her, who else could it possibly be? Another one of the young ladies that had recently been trying to win Erik's attention? "Who is it?" he asked grumpily. "Did she give a name?"

Marietta shook her head. "No, signore," she stated. "Shall I ask her?" Giovanni sighed. "No, lead her into the parlor. I'll be there in a minute and see what she wants."

Xxxx

When Giovanni entered the parlor a few minutes later, he found that the visitor was considerably older than he had expected. The prim middle-aged lady with the long braid seemed vaguely familiar, but only when she greeted him and he noticed her accent, did he remember where he had seen her.

"Good day, signor Nardini," Mme. Giry said. "Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Antoinette Giry, and I am a friend of Erik's. Please, Sir, I need to speak to him. Tell me where I might find him!"

Giovanni's first impulse was to throw her out. She had been with the young singer when he brought her the flowers that first night. How had she found them? What did she want from Erik? In his opinion that woman could only mean trouble. Her association with Erik's lost love would certainly cause his son pain, even if all she wanted was to say hello to an old friend.

"Signora Giry," Giovanni began cautiously. "Erik has told me about you and I know that the two of you were once friends. However, you are currently with a person that has hurt him deeply and I do not want my son to get hurt again. I love Erik and I will protect him. Neither this woman who broke my son's heart nor you are therefore welcome here. Please leave now and do not attempt to meet Erik ever again."

Mme. Giry stood her ground. "Signor Nardini," she said, "I understand why you may feel that way. You certainly have reason to mistrust both me and Christine, but please, believe me when I tell you that I do love Erik, too. To me, he is like my younger brother. I would not have come here if I thought that my presence will cause him pain. Actually, I think, the opposite may be the case, and Erik might benefit from talking to me."

Giovanni stared at her angrily. "You know exactly what Erik would talk about, if I gave you a chance to see him. He would ask you about her, you would have to tell him a few bits and pieces, and as a consequence he will think of her even more than he already does, he will miss her even more, long for her even more, in short, he will suffer even more. I cannot allow that. It took me so long to get him over the worst pain this unrequited love has caused him, if he falls back into that black despair he was in when he arrived here…" Giovanni shook his head. "No, it would destroy him. If it is true that you care for him as well, leave him alone."

Mme. Giry looked down. She remembered only too well, how absolutely broken and miserable Erik had been that night, when he left Paris to escape the Vicomte's wrath. "I know what you mean," she whispered. "I saw Erik that night, five years ago, when his pain was still new and raw. I thought then that he would need a loving family to help him accept the situation and overcome his pain, but he had to leave and my daughter and I really could not have come with him. We would have slowed him down, too, and then there was Christine…"

She interrupted herself and faced Giovanni. "I am sorry, signore," she stammered. "I have not thanked you yet for all you have done for our Erik. You were there for him when he needed somebody, you gave him a new home, a family, a new name and identity and you helped him start a new life."

Giovanni nodded. "I tried to give him the chance at a normal life, and now that Erik has that, now that he is respected and appreciated by our workers as well as our clients and even competitors, now that he has made a name for himself, I will not allow this person to harm him again. Signora, I repeat, if it is true that you care for Erik, leave him alone."

Mme. Giry hesitated. She had not expected the old mason to be so hostile towards Christine. In a way she could understand Giovanni, since it was obvious that his hostility was rooted in his love for Erik. But was it wise under these circumstances to tell him that Christine wanted to talk to Erik? Mme. Giry was still thinking about what to do when the door behind her opened and somebody entered the room.

"Padre, Marietta said a lady has asked for me?" The former ballet mistress smiled. She knew that voice. She turned to look at the newcomer and gasped. The voice was Erik's, but the face! Erik's face looked almost normal, the way he might have looked if he were not deformed. The left side was flushed, while the obviously artificial right half of his face showed a neutral skin color, but other than that she could spot no signs giving away the fact that half the face was an elaborate mask.

"Antoinette!" Erik stared at her. When Marietta had told him that a lady had asked for him, he had half hoped to find Christine in their parlor. He had not really expected his old childhood friend, but he had to admit that he was glad to see her.

"Erik!" Mme. Giry whispered, then she jumped to her feet, ran to the man she had always loved like a brother and hugged him. "Oh Erik, it's good to see you again," she murmured. "I am so glad to see that you are fine, I was worried about you when we last saw each other."

Erik was overwhelmed by her open display of affection and it took him a few moments to compose himself enough so that he could ask his old friend a question. "Christine," he mumbled nervously, "you are with her, are you not? How is she?"

Mme. Giry smiled at him. "Yes, I am with her, have been her chaperone ever since she returned to the stage. She is fine," she added, "but you know that. You have been to her performances, have you not? And you saw her last night at the masquerade and danced with her."

Erik fidgeted. "You know that I have been to the opera and you recognized me last night? Does Christine know….?"

Mme. Giry laughed. "Of course. It was hard to overlook the red roses that kept appearing in bouquets sent to her dressing room by an unknown admirer, especially when the first one of these roses was smuggled in by a gentleman who thought Christine was married. We do not know many people who would have thought so and still sent her a red rose." She smiled at the two men's dumbfounded stares and continued. "We were practically waiting for you to show up at the ball, and when you did, I asked somebody if he knew that nice gentleman that had been with you and who had been to Christine's dressing room on opening night. That's when I learned that my foster brother is now a successful architect and mason."

Erik stared at her unbelievingly. "Christine knows I am in Rome? Did she know it was me when she danced with me? How did she feel when she realized she had been in the arms of a monster," he added, his voice suddenly sounding bitter.

"I told you, we should not have gone to the mascherata," Giovanni chimed in. "Apparently the diva did recognize you, and now you are at her mercy again. Stay away from her, Erik, I beg you. Listen to reason. She will toy with you like she did before and hurt you once again, and when she's done with you, I'll have to pick up the pieces."

Erik turned to his adopted father. "Please, Giovanni, do not condemn her like that. She is nothing like you think. She did not toy with me, it was all my own fault. I expected too much, I longed for something she could not give me. I tried to force her to love me and I let my jealousy get the better of me." He sighed at the memory of that last night, when she had unmasked him in front of the audience and he had started the fire by crashing the chandelier. "I treated her terribly," Erik admitted, "I was out of my mind with jealousy." Erik winced. "Christine told me that compared to my soul my face is not bad at all. The true distortion lies in my wicked soul."

Giovanni went over to Erik and put a comforting hand on his son's shoulder. "She had no right to say that," he comforted Erik. "She had driven you to extremes with her actions. What you did was every bit as much her fault as it was yours, and I can sense it, you are under her influence again. If you are not careful, history will repeat itself."

Erik faced his adoptive father. "Giovanni, you may have a point, but you were not there then, I was. I know her, and despite everything, I still love her. I know now what I can and cannot expect from her. This time, I will be able to handle the situation."

Mme. Giry listened carefully, trying to remember every word that Erik spoke in Christine's defense. She would have to give Christine a detailed report on this meeting. How happy it would make the young singer to know that after all the suffering she had caused him, Erik still defended her so valiantly!

"Christine wants to talk to you, Erik," she interrupted the discussion between father and son. "She wants to tell you something, explain a few things to you, and I get the impression that you would also like to discuss a few issues with her. There is certainly some unresolved business between the two of you that needs to be sorted out."

Erik turned towards her again. "The Vicomte," he asked, "what about him? He has not married her?"

Mme. Giry smiled. "That's one of the things Christine would like to talk about," she said. "You might find it interesting."

Erik closed his eyes in agony at the thought that the Vicomte might have turned Christine into his mistress and discarded her when another girl caught his attention, thus forcing her to earn her living on the stage again. "When can I see her?" he uttered. "Where is she now? I'll go to her right away!"

Mme. Giry shook her head. "You will do no such thing, Erik," she told him. "If you did, you would probably hurt Christine's reputation. People were whispering about the two of you at the masquerade last night, wondering where you met and if you had known each other before the ball. Let's not cause a stir. I suggest the following: tomorrow is Saturday, and therefore I assume you will not work. Is that correct?" When Erik nodded, Mme. Giry continued. "Christine does not have a performance tomorrow night either, so she and I can do some sightseeing. We will therefore be promenading on Piazza Navona tomorrow afternoon, at around three o'clock, to see the Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi (four river fountain) by Bernini. If you happened to pass by at around that time, you might greet the diva and the two of you might get into a conversation. I will be close enough for propriety's sake, and if you make it appear to passers-by as if you were explaining the fountain to her, you and Christine can talk."

Mme. Giry gave Giovanni a wistful look. "If you want to make sure that the dangerous seductress that you seem to think Christine to be is not harming Erik, you are welcome to accompany him."

Giovanni sneered at her. "You do not think I will let him go there alone?" he growled. "I do believe that Erik should not see that woman at all, but I know that my arguments are useless. He will not listen, just like he did not listen, when I asked him not to go to the opera, not to send her flowers, not to attend the masked ball. I am also convinced that it is not right of her to come here and disturb what little peace my boy has found after she dumped him like a hot potato and conspired with her lover to kill him. She knows how Erik feels about her, and since she does not return these feelings, she should leave him alone."


	21. Piazza Navona

Wow, so many reviews! Thank you all so much. I do try to keep the story interesting, and apparently I have succeeded so far. Well, the big moment is approaching where our lovebirds actually talk. Ready for some fluff?

And remember, I don't own anything or anybody.

Chapter 20 – Piazza Navona

Christine was waiting for Mme. Giry's return. The longer her friend and surrogate mother stayed away, the more agitated and nervous she got. She restlessly paed up and down the living room, worrying about a thousand things at the same time. Would Mme. Giry be able to talk to Erik? How would he react when he learned that she had recognized him? Would he agree to meet with her and listen to her apologies?

When she finally heard the door, she almost fainted. The next few moments would be very decisive. Mme. Giry entered, smiling. Barely daring to hope, Christine turned to the elder woman. "Did you..?" she asked. "Does he…?"

Mme. Giry hugged her. "All is well," she said. "I saw Erik and talked to him." She pulled the nervous girl close and continued. "He is fine, he looks healthier than he ever did, since he is not so deathly pale anymore, and while he is still rather slender, he is more muscular now. The biggest surprise was his face. He does wear some type of artificial skin now, and if you don't look too close his face looks normal. It is a very special mask that he designed himself. When he wears it he looks the way he probably would look without his deformity." She giggled. "I tell you, my little brother is quite handsome!"

Christine tried to imagine what Erik looked like with this new mask, then shook her head. It did not matter. She loved him the way he was, deformity and all. When she had kissed him all those years ago, he had not been wearing a mask and it had still been the most amazing experience.

"What did he say?" she asked hesitantly. "Does he want to see me?"

Mme. Giry nodded. "He loves you. He is not mad at you or anything and he will meet you tomorrow at Piazza Navona." She smiled. "He will bring his own chaperon, though. I met his adoptive father, too. The man is an original. He genuinely loves Erik, this adoption is not only for business reasons, and he is very protective of Erik. Apparently Erik has told him everything that has happened between the two of you, and as a consequence the old man is very wary of you. Be prepared that he will treat you like an enemy intent on hurting his poor son again." And she gave Christine a detailed report on her conversation with Erik and Giovanni.

Christine frowned. "Erik's father hates me?" she whispered, "how will that affect my angel?" Mme. Giry gave her a bemused look. "Don't worry about that," she advised. "Erik loves you, he will listen to his heart, and once Giovanni realizes that you are not going to hurt his son, and once he'll see that you make Erik happy, he'll come around, I am sure about that. Now let's think about what we will be wearing tomorrow afternoon…."

Xxxx

Saturday afternoon, shortly before three o'clock, Christine and Mme. Giry walked across Piazza Navona, heading towards the famous fountain. Once they arrived in front of it, Mme. Giry took a book out of her handbag and the two ladies pretended looking up information on the fountain, while they furtively glanced around. "They are approaching," Mme. Giry suddenly whispered, "don't turn, to your left."

A few moments later, Christine finally heard her angel's voice again, for the first time after all those years, and her heart beat faster. "Good afternoon, signorina Daaé," Erik said, "I see you are interested in this beautiful fountain. Maybe we can be of assistance, seeing that we work with stone as well…"

Christine turned to him, smiling, and Erik continued, "Please excuse my boldness, my name is Nardini, by the way, Erik Nardini, and this is my father Giovanni. We run a masonry company." Christine looked at him, at his face that seemed so normal. She barely noticed the seams of the rubber mask. "This must mean so much to him," she thought, "with this mask, my angel can finally live a normal life."

For the benefit of a young family walking by, she said to Erik, "I am pleased to meet you, signor Nardini. Thank you very much for your kind offer to explain this fountain to me." She then extended her hand to Erik, which he took and kissed, while Christine added, like an afterthought, "Didn't I see you at the masquerade earlier this week? I think I even danced with you…"

Mme. Giry approached Giovanni with her book. "Could you please help me with this, signore, which of these statues here represents the Nile?" she asked. Giovanni nervously glanced at Erik who offered Christine his arm and led her around the fountain, pretending to explain the various sculptures to her. Mme. Giry whispered to Giovanni, "let them talk, stay here with me." The old mason gave her a furious look. "What do you think you are doing?" he whispered. "Where shall all this lead?" Mme. Giry smiled. "A wedding, of course. What did you think?"

Giovanni was about to explode. "Now that the Vicomte has dumped her and no respectable man would want to marry her anymore, now Erik is suddenly good enough?" he spat out. Mme. Giry shook her head. "That's not the way things are, and since Christine is probably right now explaining it all to Erik, I can tell you the truth now. She just wanted Erik to hear it first, and from her. Christine broke off her engagement, not the Vicomte. She realized that she could not marry him, when her heart was longing for another. You may not believe me, but she is deeply in love with Erik."

Xxxx

Erik and Christine had put some distance between themselves and their respective companions. Christine smiled at Erik and said in French, "Enfin je t'ai retrouvé, mon ange." (Finally I have found you again, my angel).

Erik looked at her beloved face and replied in the same language, "I am no angel, Christine. I am a human being, and when you first knew me, I behaved more like a monster. You were right to fear me, and I cannot believe you are here with me, talking to me."

Christine shook her head. "No, Erik," she insisted, "you always have been and always will be my angel. I was too young, I did not understand, so much was happening at the same time, I was so confused, I judged you without giving you a chance to justify your actions…"

Erik stared at her in wonder. She had just called him by his name – for the first time ever. "You just called me Erik," he murmured reverently. Christine nodded. "Yes, I finally know your name, Angel. Back then I never bothered to ask you." She looked down. "You have always been so kind to me. You helped me when my father died, you taught me to sing, and I have treated you so poorly. Yet you walk here with me and talk to me as if we were still friends. How could you ever forgive me?"

Now it was Erik's turn to feel embarrassed. "My behavior five years ago was inexcusable. I should have accepted your decision. I should not have tried to force you." He glanced at her to see if the memories he had conjured up were frightening her. "Do not worry," he begged her. "I now understand,… I mean, I know that you do not… that my feelings are unrequited. I will therefore not bother you with my … love… anymore. But that's why it was easy to forgive you. I understood and accepted that you could not… did not… and that it was not your fault."

Erik looked down. "I am sorry, Christine," he whispered. "I did not want to bring this up. I do not plan to remind you once again of my feelings. I promise I will not annoy you with my feelings again. You won't hear me mention them again."

Christine summoned all her courage, looked Erik in the eye, blushed deeply and whispered, "What if I want to hear it?"

Erik stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her. "You cannot possibly mean, what you just said," he uttered. "I must have misunderstood you." Christine was fighting for words, still surprised at her own brazenness, after all, she had practically just encouraged Erik to speak to her of love. Erik observed her, unsure how to interpret her agitation, then he asked softly. "What about the Vicomte? Why are you not married?"

Christine played nervously with her glove. As much as she wanted to tell Erik how much she loved him, doing so was harder than she had anticipated. Propriety dictated that a girl had to wait for the man to make the first move, and Erik had just promised not to mention his love ever again.

"I couldn't," she finally mumbled. "It did not feel right. I mean, I did like him, but it was not right. All the time during my illness I had been dreaming of love, about how magical and mysterious a kiss can be, how it is more than a touching of lips and tongues, but a merging of souls and minds…"

Erik had only listened to her first few words. "You were ill?" he interrupted her, worried. "What happened?"

Christine stared into the far distance, as if looking back to those long-gone days. "The night of the fire, I must have caught a cold in your lair, standing in that cold lake.. and my nerves were on edge, too. Once Raoul and I reached his home, I collapsed. The doctors said it was a combination of pneumonia and nervous fever, and for a few days they feared for my life."

Erik groaned. "My fault," he whispered, "that was all my fault! Forgive me, Christine, please forgive me for very nearly killing you!"

Christine looked at him, her eyes full of love. "Maybe it happened for a reason," she said. "Maybe the fever helped me see clear. As I said, in my delirium I relived all that had happened between you and me and Raoul, and I was dreaming of love, savoring it." A faint smile played across Christine's features. "Mme. Giry nursed me. She told me later, that in my dreams I was calling out to both, you and Raoul, begging you both to forgive me and worrying about your safety. Both your safety," she added meaningfully.

"You cared about _my_ safety and asked _me_ to forgive you?" Erik sounded incredulous. "Me, who had caused all this pain and suffering?"

Christine nodded. "Yes. I think deep down I knew that I had driven you over the edge, that I was just as guilty and as responsible for what had happened as you. And that what caused you so much pain had been my inability to understand the whole situation." She was not quite sure how to proceed, how to explain to him that she had been able to betray him so terribly, when her heart had always been his.

"Buquet," she finally blurted out. "It was because of Buquet." Erik looked at her quizzically. "What about him?"

Christine did not dare face him when she confessed. "I knew it had been you, and it scared me. I thought you had done it to cause a disaster beyond imagination as you had announced. I condemned you without even giving you a chance to defend yourself. I did not want to see you anymore afterwards. I did not know that he had been stalking you and that Mme. Giry had warned him repeatedly already and that you were just protecting yourself…."

Erik interrupted her. "I should not have done it, I know that now. I should have found another way to get rid of him. Oh Christine, there is so much in my past that I shouldn't have done. If only you knew!" His voice sounded so tortured that Christine had to slightly squeeze his arm to comfort him.

"The past is behind us," she said. "We cannot change it. But the future lies ahead, and the important thing is now to make sure it will be better than the past. You were treated with cruelty and violence, and therefore you retaliated the same way. But now you are respected and accepted… and loved." The last word came out as a whisper and Christine once again blushed deeply.

Erik stared at her. Had he understood her correctly? Had she really just tried to tell him that she loved him? He shook his head. No, surely he was imagining things. She had probably referred to his new family. "Giovanni has become a real father to me," he stated. "Only now do I know what it means to have a family, to have parents that are proud of you." He smiled and Christine's heart almost burst with love. Oh, how adorable he looked, when he smiled!

"I have a sister as well," Erik continued. "She is married and lives in Naples with her family. I have two nephews and a niece."

Christine gazed at him with love. "I am so glad, you have them, Erik," she said. "I am so glad, they were there for you, when I…" She left the sentence unfinished. She had not imagined it would be so hard to tell Erik everything.

"Don't blame yourself for anything," Erik said softly. "You said you were sick? What happened then, and why did the Vicomte not want you anymore?"

Christine tried once again to tell him. "You see, in my fever delirium I had this feeling of love, of finally being free of all constraints, of belonging."

Erik nodded. Of course, even then, in her subconscious she had known that she could now pursue her dream and marry the man she loved. "I understand," he whispered. "You did not have to fear me any longer, you were hoping for a future with your fiancé." The pained look on his face and the sad tone of his voice shocked Christine. She suddenly realized how much he still suffered, thinking that she had loved and maybe still loved his rival. She understood that she had to tell him everything, propriety be damned.

"I thought so, too," she said shyly, "but I was wrong. Once I was better and Raoul was allowed to visit me, I expected our encounter to be total bliss, like I had dreamed it in my delirium. But then," she blushed again, "when he kissed me, I did not feel anything. Nothing at all. And I suddenly remembered that it had been like that between him and me before. Bland, maybe even a bit awkward, certainly not the union of mind and soul I had envisioned. I knew then that something was not right. That this did not feel like what love was supposed to feel like, and I wondered how I knew that something was off when I had not realized it before." She turned to Erik, looking at him with all her love.

"Then it hit me," she whispered. "That before, I had not experienced a true kiss of love, therefore I had never before missed anything in my kisses with Raoul." Erik stared at her, unwilling to abandon himself to the hope which suddenly filled his whole heart.

"You," Christine finally uttered. "I had kissed you, and it had been the most wonderful experience. Nothing I had ever shared with Raoul came even close."

"Me," Erik whispered, incredulous. "I must be dreaming. Or maybe I am imagining things. You cannot possibly mean to tell me that this forced kiss in my lair… that you liked it better than that boy's…" He looked at her as if his life and salvation depended on her next words.

Christine nodded. "Yes. And it was not a forced kiss. You had asked me to stay with you, you had not asked any proof of my affection. I did not realize it when I kissed you, but I did it, because I wanted to. It has always been you, the angel my father sent me. I just… I didn't understand my own feelings, and after Buquet I was scared, I must have suppressed my feelings for you, tried to convince myself that you were a monster." She looked at her feet, embarrassed.

"Can you forgive me, Erik? I hurt you so much, I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I swear, if you can forgive me and are willing to give me a second chance, I would spend the rest of my days making it up to you."

Erik closed his eyes, as her words slowly sank in. Could it be true? Christine loved him? Him, the ugly freak? "I hope I won't wake up anytime soon," he sighed. "This dream is too good to be true."

Christine affectionately patted his arm. "It is no dream," she said, "look at me, Angel. Look me in the eyes and see how much I love you." Erik obeyed. Christine smiled at him, her whole face radiating love. "Once I knew, I could not marry Raoul anymore," she explained. "He did not want to let me go, it was a nasty scene. He thought you were dead, but it irked him that ultimately you had won. Though I suspect he always knew," she added.

"I still cannot grasp it," Erik mumbled. "Maybe you are fooled by my new rubber mask and think I am a normal man, even handsome, but underneath it, my appearance has not changed…"

"I know that, Erik," Christine answered. "It does not make a difference. I love you the way you are, in fact I wish you would not be wearing that false face right now. You did not wear a mask, when I kissed you…."

Xxxx

Mme. Giry was suddenly in a hurry to rejoin the couple. "We cannot allow them to kiss in public right now. They just officially met," she whispered to Giovanni. "We do not want to draw attention to the fact that they have known each other previously, that could put Erik in danger. Just play along, and all will be fine."

Giovanni sighed. He was not quite convinced yet that the soprano really loved Erik, though the way she was looking at his boy…

"Christine, dear," Mme. Giry addressed her surrogate daughter. "It is getting cool outside, I think we should go home, it would not be good for your voice to stay out much longer." Two pairs of eyes threw daggers at her, furious about the interruption.

"I hope you enjoyed the afternoon as much as I did," she continued. "If signor Nardini Junior is even half as knowledgeable as his father." She stared at Giovanni as if to make sure he would not contradict her. "Signor Nardini just asked me if we would grant him the favor of taking the tea with him and his son tomorrow afternoon. I said, I would love to, but only if you agree as well…"


	22. Tea Time

THANK YOU for all the lovely reviews! I know you have been waiting for this update, but this was a busy week, and I don't dare make any promises about when the next chapter will be available. My choir is pretty busy in church this coming week…

Anyway, I don't want to keep you any longer, since there's more fluff ahead, and keep in mind that I don't own anything or anybody!

Chapter 21 – Tea Time

Giovanni barely managed to keep up his composure, but once they had arrived at home, he exploded. "I'll kill that woman," he raged. "How can she invite herself like that! The gall she has!"

Erik laughed and patted his furious father on the back, to calm him down. "Don't be angry at Antoinette," he begged. "She means well. She wanted to give me and Christine a chance to meet in a more private setting, where we can talk more freely, without having to pay attention to who is walking by and what they might overhear."

Giovanni frowned at his son. "What could the two of you possibly have to discuss that you do not want to be overheard?" he asked. "I am surprised you two want to talk at all, after all that has happened between you."

Erik smiled. Giovanni had never seen him like that before, so relaxed, so happy, so positively glowing. "I cannot quite grasp it myself," Erik said, "but Christine and I… it seems as if there were a chance for us after all. She left her Vicomte, broke off the engagement, because of me. Padre Giovanni, she could have had a Vicomte, young, handsome, rich, a respected member of society, everything I am not, and she left him for me, the ugly, deformed fugitive, the wanted criminal!"

Giovanni glared at him. "And you believe that story? How can you be so sure she is not lying?"

Erik shook his head. "She was never good at that. I always knew when she was hiding something, and the way she looked at me! Oh my God, Giovanni, I have never before seen her eyes shine with so much love, not even when I was spying on her and that fop! And she said she wished I was not wearing that mask! She genuinely wanted to see my horrible face!"

Giovanni thought by himself that she could easily say such things when there was no danger that she might actually have to deal with the sight of Erik's deformity anytime soon. But did she really mean it? Maybe this tea was not such a bad idea after all, maybe it would help him find out if that girl was sincere about her feelings. If not, he would know how to protect his son, but if she was, indeed, speaking the truth… Giovanni was suddenly feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. If indeed she was willing to make his boy happy, he would welcome her into his family with open arms.

Xxxx

The next day, both Nardinis were rather nervous and restless. The more time passed since their meeting at Piazza Navona, the more uncertain Erik became about Christine's feelings. Had he understood her correctly? Had he not read things into her words that he wanted to hear? Had Christine really meant to tell him that she loved him?

Giovanni was mulling over pretty much the same questions. Was it possible that the young diva truly cared for his beloved son, even though she had so easily betrayed and abandoned him in the past?

When the doorbell finally rang, announcing the arrival of their guests, the two men looked at each other uneasily. What would the afternoon bring?

Since it was Sunday and their housekeeper had the day off, they had to answer the door themselves. Giovanni went ahead, with Erik right behind him. Giovanni opened the door and let the ladies in. While he greeted them, he was very pleased to see that the Daaé-girl was glancing behind him, her eyes searching for his son. "Maybe," he thought, "just maybe, she has truly come to her senses and realized what a loving, caring, sensitive being my Erik can be, when treated with love."

Giovanni stepped aside, so that Erik could welcome their guests. "Angel!" Christine's voice sounded weak, but oh so sweet, and full of longing. "My Christine," Erik rasped, bursting with love, then he simply opened his arms and Christine threw herself into his embrace, hugging him tightly, burying her face in his chest.

"I thought, I had lost you," Christine sobbed. "When I realized that it was you I wanted, you were gone, and not even Mme. Giry knew where you were. I feared I would never find you again!"

Erik pulled her even closer. "I thought I had lost you, too," he murmured. "When you left me with your fiancé…" He unbuttoned the two uppermost buttons of his shirt and pulled out the chain with the ring she had returned to him before leaving with Raoul. "This was all I had left of you," he whispered. "Knowing that you had worn it on your finger for me like a real bride does, not around your neck as you had done for that… boy, gave me the feeling as if through it I still was somehow linked to you. That and the memory of your kiss, was what kept me going." Erik caressed the sobbing girl's brown curls. "And a desire not to let them win," he confessed. "I felt like my life was over. I had lost everything I had ever cared for, I came that close to giving up and simply dying." He sensed how Christine shuddered in his arms. "But then they would have won," he said gently, "would they not?

Christine could not stop crying. All the fear and uneasiness, the depression and guilt of the past five years was finally catching up with her. Neither she nor Erik noticed that Giovanni and Mme. Giry had disappeared into the parlor. "Oh Erik, I am sorry," she sobbed. "It must have been so hard for you." Memories of his devastated look when she had returned the ring to him resurfaced before her mind's eye. She knew that should he ever again look at her half as sadly as he had done that night, she would hug and kiss him. How could she have abandoned him then and caused him so much pain? "I am such a horrid person!"

Erik was every bit as agitated as Christine. "No, you are not," he cooed. "You were right to leave me. I had done such horrible things. I did not deserve you then. But I have worked hard those past five years, and padre Giovanni has helped me. I have tried to become a man you could be proud of having known. I thought I would never see you again, but I wanted to somehow be worthy of you – of the friendship we had had when you still thought I was an angel, and of the kiss you had generously shared with me."

Christine looked up at him, a faint smile crossing her lips. "You have not told me yet how you came here," she said. "And how you ended up with a family."

Erik sensed that she was calming down. "You have not told me yet, how you happened to perform here," he replied. "Was it a coincidence or did you suspect I might be here?"

Christine sighed. "It's a long story," she uttered. Erik smiled. "So is mine," he said. "How about we follow our two chaperons into the parlor? I am sure they have some tea ready by now, and we could both use a cup of tea right now. Also, if we tell our stories in their presence, at least they will both know everything then and we won't have to repeat it to them. Giovanni of course knows my part of it, and I guess Antoinette knows yours, but I am sure they both want to learn the other half as much we do."

Xxxx

When Erik and Christine finally arrived in the parlor, Mme. Giry and Giovanni smiled at each other. The "children" were clinging to each other, and despite Christine's red eyes they exuded a feeling of togetherness and belonging.

"You two are just in time," Mme. Giry said gaily. "Tea is ready." She played hostess and poured tea for all four of them and served each of them a portion of tiramisu. Once everybody had settled down, Christine began to tell her story, how she and Mme. Giry had been travelling all over Europe, how she had been performing in all major opera houses, always hoping that Erik would be in the audience, and how she had finally sensed his presence here in Rome.

"I always knew when you were there," she smiled at Erik. "Don't you remember? When I still thought you were an angel? Many times I greeted you before you had revealed your presence!" Erik nodded. He had not expected that she would still be able to sense him. Not after all that time, and after all the animosity and suffering that had happened between them. Back then, of course, they had been attuned to each other…

"It is a good thing I did not expect you to feel my presence anymore," he said. "If I had known, I might have forced myself not to attend your performances." He smiled apologetically at Christine. "I could not know that you would want to see me," he added.

Christine nodded. "No, I certainly have not given you reason to think I might ever want to see you again." She shuddered. "I said such terrible, cruel things to you that night."

Erik reached for her hand and squeezed it. "I did my share of terrible things as well, don't blame yourself. I deserved everything that happened to me that night."

Then he began to tell his story, how he and César had almost died of exposure and starvation during the first weeks of their travel, until it got a bit warmer and edible herbs started growing. "César!" Christine exclaimed. "I should have known that you would have taken him with you. How is he?"

Erik looked at her animated features, thinking once again how beautiful she was. "I was lucky he was unharmed," he said. "The fire had not yet gotten to his hiding place and the mob had not found him yet, and apparently nobody knew about the Rue Scribe entrance, so we could get out undetected." He glanced at Giovanni. "Cesare is fine," he said, adding as an explanation, "my father has Italianized his name."

"Where is he?" Christine asked. "I would love to say hello to him, too." Erik glared at Giovanni and Mme. Giry, making it clear that he did not want them to follow. "He is in the stable with our other horses, right across the back yard," he told Christine. "We can go there right away, if you wish." Christine smiled at him lovingly. "I would like that very much," she said.

Xxxx

Once the couple had left the house and was walking across the back yard, which was actually a very pretty little garden, Christine addressed Erik. "There is one more thing I wanted to ask you," she said hesitantly. "You said, you and Giovanni had known each other before and that he recognized you."

Erik swallowed hard. He had not wanted to discuss Luciana's tragic death with Christine so soon, had planned to wait with this confession until her feelings for him would have grown even stronger, but her question made it clear that he needed to talk now.

"Has Antoinette told you that I left the Opera Populaire for a few years, just before she got married?" he asked. Christine nodded. "Yes," she said. "So, during that time you came here and met Giovanni?"

Erik looked down at her. How would she take his confession? "I was his apprentice," he confirmed. "I worked for him. He told me all there is to know about his profession."

Christine smiled. "He must be a good teacher, for I have heard that his business has always been a prosperous one, though people say that it's now the number one masonry company in Rome. Since you have joined it."

Erik sighed. It would be so easy to avoid speaking about Luciana now, but if Christine had already collected information on him and Giovanni… "What else have you heard about me and Giovanni?" he asked cautiously.

Christine blushed. Should she tell Erik that there were rumors about him and a daughter of Giovanni's? How would he react if he realized she was jealous? "I don't know," she stammered. "There are those that think Giovanni had a reason to love you – like a son." She averted her eyes to hide her embarrassment – and so that she would not have to see the pain in Erik's eyes when she reminded him of his lost love.

"Luciana," Erik's voice sounded flat. "You heard that Luciana and I… that Giovanni had thought of me as his son-in-law." Christine nodded. "Is it true?" Her voice shook. "Did you love her?"

Erik stared at her in wonder. "You are jealous," he said. "Oh my God, Christine!" His voice sounded jubilant. "I never would have thought it possible, but you are downright jealous of her!"

Christine glanced at him, furtively. "So, is it true?" she asked again. "Is that why Giovanni adopted you? Because you both miss her?"

Erik shook his head. He realized that he had to tell her everything now. "No, it is not as you think," he said. "I was a teenager, in the throes of puberty, and Luciana was a girl, about to become a woman. She was slightly younger than I was, we were both far too young to understand feelings of love." He interrupted himself when he realized that Christine had not been any older than Luciana when he had forced her to choose between him and her childhood sweetheart.

"Luciana was fascinated by my mask," Erik continued after a pause. "She followed me around and made it clear that she was interested." He breathed heavily, embarrassed about his next words. "She awoke my most basic needs and desires." Erik blushed at the memory of the erotic fantasies Luciana had stirred in him. "I did want her," he confessed, "but I also knew that she would not want anything to do with me, should she ever see my face. If I had been a normal man, I probably would have taken her," he mumbled. How would Christine feel about him telling her about his sexual desires as a teenager?

"The only thing that helped me control my… urges was the thought of her recoiling in horror at the sight of my face. My face is what kept me from dishonoring Giovanni's daughter."

Christine was shocked to hear Erik talk so openly about certain things that an unmarried lady was not supposed to know anything about. "But Giovanni," she asked. "Did he think the two of you were in love?"

Erik thought for a moment. "I think deep down he knew the truth," he finally said, "but he was impressed with my work and my talent and the thought that I might become his son-in-law and one day take over his business did appeal to him. He noticed that Luciana was practically throwing herself at me … and that my body reacted to her. It soon became obvious that I would not be able to resist much longer. So Giovanni told me to show Luciana my face. He thought that either she would be shocked and leave me alone, or, as he hoped, she would be able to look past it and truly love me, in which case she and I would become a couple."

Christine gasped. "You showed her your face?" she asked, remembering the first time she had seen Erik unmasked. "How did she react?"

Erik paled. "She recoiled," he whispered. "She stepped back, crushing into the balustrade of the roof we were on. The stonework crumbled and gave way, and she fell…"

Erik closed his eyes as if to shut out the image of Luciana's broken body on the ground. "Oh my God!" Christine's gasp barely registered with him. Surely she would recoil from him now as well.

Suddenly Erik felt a tiny hand on his unmasked cheek. "It was not your fault," Christine whispered, caressing his cheek. "But I can see how you would blame yourself for what happened."

Erik slowly opened his eyes. "You do not blame me for her death?" he asked shyly. Christine shook her head. "No, you did not frighten her on purpose, and if the balustrade had not been in decay nothing would have happened at all."

Erik glanced at her, saw her reassuring smile. "I thought, Giovanni would blame me," he said, "so I left. Now I know that he is blaming himself. It was not really his fault either. He did not know the balustrade was in bad shape, and he hoped she would be able to accept me. As strange as it seems, he already loved me then and desperately wanted me to become his son."

Christine took Erik's hand into both her hands and put it on her cheek. "He saw beyond the mask even then," she whispered. "Giovanni is a wise man." Erik nodded. Then he swallowed again, before asking her yet another question. "And you are not repulsed when I tell you about my strong urges, that I have desired another woman before you, that I came very close to raping her?"

Christine looked at him. "You are a man, Erik," she said. "I do not know much about … " she blushed deeply. "But I was told that most men cannot control those … urges, and that they seek relief. That girl was maybe the first to make you feel that way, but probably not the last. I know that men do… that… with several women before they get married, and sometimes even after they are married…"

Erik gave her a shocked look. "You think I have done… that… already?" He asked in horror. Christine blushed an even deeper shade of pink. "Have you not?" she asked. "I am sure Raoul has. He always urged me to let him… seeing that we were going to marry anyway, but I did not want to," she quickly added, as she saw the painful look in Erik's eyes. "It did not seem right."

By then they had arrived at the stable and Erik showed Christine in, leading her to César's box. He was much more interested in Christine, though, than in his stallion, and Christine, too, did not pay the horse any attention.

"Let me see you, Angel," she whispered. "Let me finally see your beloved face." Erik hesitated. "Are you sure?" he asked. Christine nodded. "I know the whole story now," she said. "All my questions have been answered, and I am more certain than ever that I love you."

Erik slowly raised his hands and peeled off the rubber mask. Christine's smile broadened. She reached up to his deformed cheek and caressed it. "I love you, Erik," she stated simply, looking at him invitingly. Erik hesitated for a moment, before he bowed his head and reverently touched his lips to hers. His arms came around her when Christine opened her mouth to allow his tongue in. All their pain and suffering of the past five years fell away, and nothing mattered to either of them but the fact that they had found each other again and were finally together.


	23. Secrecy

Thank you all for reading and reviewing! Well, when I said that this story was nearing its end I did not exactly mean there would be only an epilogue of sorts. This one is already now my second-longest story and there are maybe two or three more installments coming after this one. So no need to get too depressed just yet. But yes, the story is coming to an end. That's the bad news. The good news is, I have already started my next story, which I know some of you have already checked out.

Anyway, I still don't own anything or anybody and here is the next chapter.

Chapter 22 – Secrecy

After a while Christine and Erik broke apart so they could breath. Erik looked at Christine's flushed face and asked teasingly, "is this the kind of kiss you have been dreaming about?"

Christine nodded, her left hand lovingly tracing every bump and wrinkle of Erik's deformity. She smiled at her angel mischievously. "It's even better than I remember," she confessed, which Erik took as an invitation to kiss her again.

They had been apart for so long, loving each other from afar, suffering under their separation, that now they could not get enough of each other. They were clinging to one another, holding each other tight, caressing each other, kissing each other, savoring their reunion to the fullest.

When they broke apart after yet another kiss, Erik gently pushed Christine away to create a small distance between them. "I think we'd better stop now," he said shakily, "or we will end up over there in the hay doing all those things that only a married couple should do."

Christine blushed deeply. She suddenly became aware that Erik's right hand was cupping her breast. She could feel his touch through the thin fabric of her dress. Her own hand had been reaching for the uppermost button of Erik's shirt.

"You are right," she whispered embarrassed, "we should not do that." But while she followed the dictates of propriety, she knew that her body wanted nothing more than for them to continue.

"Not right now," Erik corrected. "We should get properly married first." Then he knelt down in front of Christine, took her hands in his and asked, "will you marry me, Christine? I know I am twice your age and my looks leave a lot to be desired, my past was violent and there were crimes in it, but I love you with all my heart. I would do everything in my power to make you happy if you accept my proposal."

Christine had tears in her eyes. How different this engagement was from their first one, when she had agreed to stay with him in order to save Raoul's life! "Yes, Erik," she said. "Yes, I will marry you. I already promised myself to you five years ago, and even though I did not quite understand it then, I was serious about it then. You had not asked for a kiss, but I.." She blushed an even deeper shade of pink. "I wanted to kiss you even then," she admitted. "I think, deep down I always knew that we belong together."

Erik stood up and took her into his arms again. "My Christine," he said, "finally mine." Then they walked back to the house, hand in hand. One look at the two radiant faces and the interlaced fingers told Giovanni and Mme. Giry all they needed to know.

Erik lead Christine to his father first. "Padre," he said, "Here I bring you my bride. Christine has agreed to marry me. You know how much I love her and how much I have missed her those past few years, you know that I thought that she does not return my feelings, but I was wrong. Now that we have found each other again, we know that we do want to spend the rest of our lives together."

Christine looked at Giovanni pleadingly. "I have treated Erik poorly in the past," she said, "and I can understand if you have your doubts about my love for your son, but I hurt myself just as badly as him when I left Erik. Now I know where I belong. I hope you will welcome me into your family."

Giovanni was deeply moved. It was very obvious that these two were very much in love with each other. He had never seen Erik so radiant and the young diva was smiling so lovingly at his son's unmasked, deformed face that he simply joined their hands and told them how happy he was for both of them that fate had brought them together again and granted them this second chance.

Erik then turned to Mme. Giry. "Christine has no living relatives," he said, "so I ask you, as her surrogate mother, for her hand in marriage and for your blessing." Mme. Giry hugged him. "A long time ago I thought the two of you would end up together, and that thought made me happy," she mumbled between tears of joy. "Then the Vicomte entered Christine's life and I began to doubt. I am glad that I was right in the first place. The two of you needed each other right from the beginning, when you first met, and I have seen how much both of you have suffered under the separation, so of course I give you my blessing!"

Xxxx

Once the first wave of happiness about the engagement was starting to fade, Mme. Giry approached a serious topic. "Christine, are you absolutely certain, that the Vicomte has no interest in you anymore, that he is not spying on you or something?" she asked.

Christine stared at her, surprised. "I do not know, why do you ask? I certainly have not heard from him since we left his mansion all those years ago."

Mme. Giry nodded. "I have not noticed anything either that would point to him surveying you, but I have a feeling that news about your engagement might renew his interest in you, especially if he hears that something is wrong with your fiancé's face. He might suspect the truth then, which could put Erik at risk. That's why I insisted yesterday that the two of you behave as if you had just met. We need to wait a few more weeks before we can make this engagement official. Erik needs to do some official courting. Our story will be that he was smitten with the young prima donna the moment he saw her and heard he sing – which will not surprise anybody, since you must have been seen at the opera," she smiled at Erik. "But since you are not experienced in dealing with women, something again that Roman society will confirm, and since you are so much older than she is, you did not dare approach her and come to her dressing room. At the masquerade you finally gave in to temptation and asked her for a dance, thinking that she would not realize how old her dancer really was because of the full mask. For some reason or other, Christine felt attracted to you, which gave you the courage to finally introduce yourself to her when we met by chance at the fountain at Piazza Navona. Christine remembered that you had danced with her and you explained the fountain to her and you liked each other, so your father, who knew that you were pining for the young singer, invited us to tea to give the two of you a chance to get to know each other a bit."

Mme. Giry paused for a moment, then she continued, instructing the young couple. "The important thing now is that the two of you behave in public as if you had just met. You address each other as "signorina Daaé" and "signor Nardini", you don't use first names or even less the word angel when anybody can overhear you. Christine, it might be best if you stopped calling Erik your angel. If anybody notices that and rumor of this endearment reaches the Vicomte…" Christine shuddered. For Erik's safety she would stick to his name from now on.

"Erik, now that you have officially met Christine, you will be expected to come to her dressing room after a performance. You may bring her flowers, but please stay away from red roses for the time being." Erik nodded. He did not like this whole scheme of keeping their engagement secret for the next few weeks, but he understood its necessity.

"The next performance is tomorrow night," Mme. Giry continued. "Afterwards you will meet us in Christine's dressing room to greet her and do some small talk. You may ask her out for dinner, but since we have been here today, we will decline for tomorrow night but give you a date later next week, when we would be pleased to have dinner with you." She looked at Erik. "I am sorry, you will have to put up with me as well. For propriety reasons Christine can't have dinner with you without a chaperone. I know this all sounds dire to the two of you, but it's for the best. Over the next couple of weeks you may seem to become a bit closer, and after a while we can officially proclaim the engagement. By then half of Rome will probably be expecting it," she added, smiling.

Christine and Erik looked at each other and sighed. Several weeks! That sounded to them like an eternity. How would they be able to maintain distance and only meet in more or less public settings for so long? And how much longer would they have to wait before they could get married?

"Mme. Giry is right," Giovanni chimed in. "I know you have already lost so much time and you want to get married as soon as possible, but we'd better be careful. We don't want to downright tell the Vicomte where to find his rival so that he can hand Erik over to the authorities. He may still suspect, when he hears about my son's supposed face injury, but if we can convince Roman society that you two have only just met, he won't have any proof. I promise that the wedding can take place soon after the official proclamation of the engagement. At the beginning of summer," he smiled at the young couple. "How about that? I promise you two will be able to get married in early summer."

Mme. Giry smiled as she saw the desperate looks her two protégés were exchanging. "Don't behave as if this were the end of the world," she admonished them. "This will be so much better than the last five years. You can see each other regularly and in maybe four weeks, better five, you will be able to correspond, and I am sure that both me and signor Nardini will think of ways to give the two of you a chance for an occasional kiss. In mid-May we proclaim the engagement and at the end of June you can get married."

Xxxx

The next couple of weeks were at the same time incredibly sweet and incredibly hard for the two lovers. Erik continued to attend every single one of Christine's performances, but now he went to meet her at her dressing room afterwards. The first time he showed up there with a lovely bouquet of flowers, Mme. Giry greeted him friendly, telling him in front of the other admirers that "la signorina Daaé" had hoped to see him tonight and ushered him in, ignoring the other young men.

As soon as the door was closed behind them she whispered, "two minutes, I can't give you more, then Erik will have to leave." With these words she turned her back to the lovers to give them some privacy. Erik and Christine quickly hugged and kissed, then Mme. Giry whispered to Erik, "we have accepted your dinner invitation for Thursday night."

Erik nodded. He and Christine went towards the door of her dressing room, and while Erik opened it, Christine extended her hand to him, which he kissed, thanking her in appropriate words for granting him the pleasure of allowing him to take her and la signora Giry to dinner on Thursday.

Of course his words did not go unnoticed, and soon all of Rome knew that the younger Nardini was obviously trying to court the prima donna. Mothers of nubile daughters that had set their hopes on Erik as a potential son-in-law smiled gleefully. In their opinion Erik Nardini was setting himself up for a disappointment. "What makes him think the prima donna will want him?" they gossiped. "She is used to traveling around, to having the most handsome and richest men at her feet. Why would she give that up to settle down here now? Maybe if he tried again in fifteen years or so, when her youth will be fading, then she might be tempted by the prospect of marriage and family life. But now? She will turn him down. Serves him well, why doesn't he show any interest in the nice Roman girls."

But the older matrons shook their heads. "You will see," they said. "She will accept his proposal. We knew when they danced together at the mascherata. That's when it happened, when they started to fall in love."

At first Erik and Christine hated the secrecy. They were so happy about their reunion that they would have wanted to spend as much time together as possible. But after the first two or three weeks they began to enjoy the game. Mme. Giry had been right. Compared to the loneliness of the past five years their current situation was heaven. They could see each other regularly, they were now sure of each other's feelings and they had a wedding to look forward to. Not to mention the fact that coming up with new ways when and where to meet as if by chance or to secretly steal a kiss presented a new and interesting challenge to them.

As to the roles they had to play in public, they were both actors and soon enjoyed pretending that they were only now falling in love. They were of course aware that the society of Rome was watching them and that after a while people got used to seeing them together. Erik now accompanied Christine when she went for a walk, with the inevitable Mme. Giry in tow as Christine's chaperone, or the two ladies accepted Erik's invitation to dinner. Erik suddenly attended public functions more often than ever before – especially those where the young diva was also invited so that he could meet her there and on his free weekends he took it upon himself to show the sights of Rome to the prima donna and her chaperone.

Still, had Mme. Giry and Giovanni not helped a bit and provided the two lovers with some moments of privacy every now and then, so that they could tell each other how much they loved each other and share a kiss or two, the situation would have been hard on Erik and Christine. But with the support of these two confidants the situation was bearable.

Erik had originally planned to give his ring back to Christine, but he understood that just like the use of the endearment "angel", the ring would be yet another proof of his true identity. He therefore agreed to keep the ring as a reminder of their first engagement and to buy Christine another ring, once they would be able to make their engagement public. Christine smiled at him and said that the ring truly belonged to him. "When you ripped it from my neck, you said that my chains were still yours," she reminded Erik. "So it is only right that you keep it now as a reminder that my chains have been and always will be yours." Erik liked this interpretation and continued to proudly wear the ring around his neck.

In March the production of "Luisa Miller" ended its run and Christine had now a bit more free time. During the week, Erik had of course to work, but they saw each other at least two or three times every week. The Sundays more or less belonged to them, but they somehow managed to meet at least once in between, even if it meant they had to attend a boring soirée in order to see each other.

Nothing inappropriate happened between them, Christine always behaved like the perfect lady and Erik treated her with the utmost respect. Those that had at first wondered how Giovanni would react to the fact that his son was courting a theater girl, soon realized that he seemed to approve of his son's choice. They had to admit, though, that this Daaé person was obviously not like other singers and dancers. The woman even went to church, she dressed decently and had manners. She would probably not look out of place if she married into an honorable family.

The manager of the opera was the only one to be a bit concerned, though. He had finally got Christine under contract for a new production of Rossini's "La Donna del Lago" to start in mid-April. Now he saw the diva obviously getting into a relationship with a respectable man and he wondered. Would her suitor and his father want her to continue her career? Should Nardini marry her, would it not be slightly inappropriate for her to still work as a singer and actress? But if she wanted to quit – who would sing the title role in his next production?

He was not sure, though, what he should do. He could not hire somebody else, since he had la Daaé under contract. He could not really discuss the situation with his star either, since as far as he knew there was no official engagement yet, therefore chances were high that the diva and her suitor had probably not given much thought to this problem yet. Should he ask Nardini? The man's intentions were clear. He was totally smitten with the young soprano and obviously was only waiting for a suitable occasion to propose to her. But would the diva accept his proposal? The manager thought she might. She seemed to really enjoy Nardini's presence. But what if by marrying him she would have to give up singing? Would her answer still be "yes"?

In the end he decided to just wait and see. After all it did not seem likely that a decision would be made anytime soon. Nardini had not yet proposed to her, it seemed, or she had not given him a definitive answer yet. Even if she did accept his proposal, they would not get married until late spring at the earliest, therefore la Daaé would most likely be available for the entire run of the new production. And then he could maybe organize a big gala event to celebrate her last performance or something like that. Yes, the farewell of the diva could most likely be turned into something profitable for him and his opera house.


	24. Paris

New update! I know you are all waiting for more fluff, but we have to deal with two characters first that have been out of the story for quite a while. It'll get fluffy again, soon, though, I promise.

Anyway, thank you all for your continued support and keep in mind that I do not own anything or anybody.

Chapter 23 – Paris

Meg Giry was on her way to the dancing school, where she worked. She was inwardly smiling, thinking about the two long letters she had received from her mother and Christine the previous day. She was so happy that the two had finally found Erik, and that the latter was now a respected Roman citizen with a family to support him and in charge of an expanding masonry business.

"Maybe it's all happened for a reason," she thought. "Five years ago, at the Opera Populaire, if Christine had realized her love for him then, how could they have been together? She would have had to live in this underground home of his, could never have gone out with her husband. Her life would have been difficult at the very least, if not downright dangerous. If either of them had fallen ill, how would they have been able to get a doctor down there, and what if there had been children? Now he has a home and a family, he does not have to resort to violence and threats anymore. Now they can get married and live a normal life like everybody else."

They had asked her to join them, move to Rome. Christine was fairly certain that Meg could work as a ballerina at the Roman opera house, and that way they could all be together. Meg was a bit wary, since she did not really speak Italian, just a few words that she had picked up at the Opera Populaire all those years ago, but she had to admit that she would love being with Christine again.

"Come for Pentecost," Christine had written. "You could use the holiday as an excuse for your visit. We are planning to make our engagement official around that time, and I would love to have you at the reception that Erik's father will host to celebrate our engagement."

Meg thought she might accept that invitation. That way she could be there to wish her dear sister all the best for her upcoming marriage, she could finally meet this Erik, that both, her mother and Christine were so fond of despite all the bad things he had done, and she could see if she liked it in Rome and if she would therefore want to move there permanently. In the latter case, she could probably also get in touch with the manager of the Roman Opera and see if there was an opening for her in his corps de ballet. If not, she could always look for a teaching job like the one she was working at right now.

Meg was mulling over her decision, thinking about the fact that she would have to ask her employer to get some vacation time around Pentecost, when she heard someone calling her name.

"Mademoiselle Giry," a man's voice called, "may I have a word with you?"

Meg turned around to see Raoul de Chagny running towards her. She hesitated. She did not really want to talk to the Vicomte, but if she avoided him, she might make him angry. She therefore stood and waited for him to catch up with her.

"Monsieur le Vicomte," she greeted him calmly. "How may I be of assistance to you?"

Raoul fidgeted nervously. He was not quite sure how to begin. "Christine," he finally uttered. "Have you heard from Christine recently? How is she?"

Meg had feared he might ask her about her friend. She did not want to give him too much information, so she cautiously retorted. "Why do you ask? The way I understand it, the two of you parted ways years ago, and not in the most amicable way."

Raoul nodded. "Yes," he admitted, "I was furious at her. She had just told me that she preferred that criminal over me and would not marry me, even though he was dead. I should not have been so harsh with her, should have been more understanding. I was too jealous to see that she was mourning him. I should have waited till she was over the worst and then courted her again. If I had given her enough time, maybe I could have won her after all…"

Meg shook her head. "I am not so sure of that," she said. "From what I have heard from Christine, I do not think she thought that with time her heart might have turned to you. Also, if she had considered a future with you as a possibility, wouldn't she just have asked you to give her time, instead of breaking off the engagement?"

Raoul sighed. "Maybe she overreacted, when I was jealous of her dead monster and got angry with her," he said, his voice full of hope. "Maybe if I had handled the situation differently she would have agreed to give it a try."

Meg though that he was pretty stubborn and obviously still seemed to be convinced that everything had to go his way. He still had not learned to accept a "no". She looked the Vicomte in the eye. "Be that as it may," she said, "things happened a certain way five years ago and we'll never know what would have been if you or Christine had done or said something in a different way."

Raoul stared at her, imploring her to give him the answer he wanted to hear. "So you do not think she could forgive me for my terrible behavior then and give me a second chance? So much time has passed, maybe she now sees things differently. She cannot mourn that criminal forever, she should consider a new relationship, getting married, not having to perform for a living…"

Meg interrupted him. "Christine loves her job," she said. "Even if she got married, she would want to continue singing, and you know that as a Vicomtesse she could not do that."

Raoul knew that Meg was right. As his wife, Christine would have to give up her career. "But would any husband allow her to work on a stage?" he asked annoyed. "She will have to leave the theatre anyway, once she gets married. And unless she wants to become an old spinster, she will eventually have to marry somebody. So why should that somebody not be me? After all, we have known each other for such a long time, and I could offer her a comfortable, sorrow-free life."

Meg was furious. He did not seem to get it. What else could she say to convince that arrogant young man to leave Christine alone, once and for all?

"Your past with her," she tried again. "Christine was very hurt about the way you treated her when she told you that she could not marry you." Meg bit her lip. She hoped she had not angered him too much, but she had to make him understand that there was no chance for him and Christine ever becoming a couple. Not now that Christine and Erik had been reunited and were already secretly engaged. "The way you forced her to betray – him, during the performance of "Don Juan Triumphant". She did not want to act as bait, do you remember? But you forced her to. Do you think these memories will not always haunt her? Do you really think she could ever forget this and marry the man who forced her to betray her true love?"

Raoul seethed. "Him and him and always him!" he spat. "What did she see in this deformed monster? What kind of spell did he use, what kind of power did he have over her that she cannot get over him and start a normal relationship with a respectable man?"

Meg was rather certain that by "respectable man" the Vicomte was meaning himself. She was shocked at this man's arrogance. She finally understood why Christine had not wanted to marry this spoiled brat, even though Meg was still not a hundred percent certain she knew what Christine could possibly see in the famous Phantom.

"He was there for her when her father died," she tried again to make Raoul accept the truth. "She felt so lonely ad abandoned, orphaned as she was, and he understood. He was just as lonely, that's what helped him see what she needed. He was everything to her, father, best friend, teacher, confidant. They somehow needed each other, they alleviated each other's loneliness and they understood each other's love for music. I do not quite understand how she could forgive his crimes," Meg added, "but I do see how they would relate to each other and complement each other in many ways."

The Vicomte snorted. "Yeah, right," he said. "But he is gone. Has been dead for over five years. It's time for her to move on. Christine needs to get over him and realize that there are other men around. Better men."

Meg was at the end of her patience. Apparently this stubborn man did not want to consider the possibility that this time he could not have what he wanted. How would he react if he read about Christine's engagement in the papers? Meg was fairly certain that the famous diva's upcoming wedding would be big society news, especially here in France, where her career had started. In only a few weeks Erik would officially propose to Christine and they were planning on getting married soon afterwards. Maybe it was best to somehow prepare the Vicomte?

"What if Christine one day did get into another relationship," she asked cautiously. "How would you react if she found somebody else and fell in love with him? Would you be happy for her?"

Raoul stared at her. "Is there somebody?" he raged. "Has she told you something? Is that why you are so certain that she would not be able to forgive me and grant me a second chance?"

Meg looked down. She did not really want to tell Raoul anything, after all, the engagement was still a secret one. "I don't know," she finally said. "As far as I know, she is not spoken for." At least not officially, she thought, so this is not quite a lie. "But what if?" she insisted. "What if she did find a man she wanted to marry. A man other than you," she added boldly. "Would you be jealous and try to get between them, fight for her as you did five years ago, or would you accept her choice? Would you be happy for her?"

Raoul gazed at her angrily. "Mademoiselle Giry," he seethed, "are you implying that I always knew that Christine loved that - thing - and that I tried my best to break them up because I wanted her for myself?"

Meg faced him unperturbed. "Did you not?" she asked calmly. Raoul squirmed under her scrutinizing gaze. "I think, I suspected that there was some – attraction – between them," he finally admitted. "And it is true that I loved her and wanted her for myself, but I also wanted to save her from a terrible fate at the side of a murderer. I did not want to see her abused, lied to by this monster who made her believe he was an angel…"

Meg nodded. "I understand, yet she would not have needed saving. He treated her well. He never hurt her. And they loved each other. If you had not interfered, …" Meg did not finish her sentence. If the Vicomte had not interfered, Christine would probably now live in a cellar underneath the Opera Populaire, with a husband that she could not introduce to her colleagues.

Raoul sighed. "Are you telling me that I should have left her alone?" he asked, "allowed her to start a life with this criminal?"

Meg looked at him uneasily. "It might have been better," she said, not quite as certain as she would have wanted to. "Anyway, I hope that should she ever find a chance at happiness again, you will not interfere again. If you really loved her," she added meaningfully, "you would put her happiness above everything else."

Raoul closed his eyes. A memory of Christine suddenly stood before his inner eye. Christine, frail and weak from her illness, the way she had been during their last confrontation. She had asked him pretty much the same as Meg Giry now, had reminded him that his rival had loved her enough to let her go, to do what he thought was best for her and what she apparently really wanted. Then she had asked him if his love for her was as strong as that of the Opera Ghost.

Raoul bit his lip. "There is somebody," he stated flatly. "No, don't deny it. You know more than you let on." He stared ahead. "She asked me the same," he whispered. "That last day, before she left. She asked me if my love was as strong as his, if like him, I'd let her go." He looked into the far distance.

"I guess it is time I faced the truth," he said. "I lost Christine long ago. Or maybe she never was truly mine. There is the Baronesse de Merycourt, who has been showing some interest in me. She is a nice girl, nothing like Christine, but I kind of like her. Maybe with time I could learn to love her."

Meg smiled. She did not personally know the young baroness, but she had seen pictures of her in the society section of the papers. She would make a perfect wife for the Vicomte. Unlike Christine she was a member of his own social circle and would probably be welcomed with open arms by Raoul's family.

"I am sure the baroness would like it if you paid her more attention," she said warmly. "She seems to be a very nice young lady, and she is lovely."

Raoul nodded. Come to think of it, he liked Marie-Claire quite a lot. She made him laugh and she would make a great Viomtesse. She certainly knew how to represent a noble family and she was well-liked in society. If he could not have Christine – his heart ached again at that thought – Marie-Claire really would be the next best woman to have. Lovely Marie-Claire with her eyes as blue as the sky on a sunny day and a smile as bright as the brightest star.

"Is he a respectable man?" he finally asked. "The one that Christine has told you about. Will he be able to keep her safe and to support her financially? Her and a family, should they have any children?"

Meg nodded. "Yes," she said. "I have not met him yet" – which was the truth, since she had never met Erik while he still lived at the Opera Populaire – "but from what my mother and Christine have told me, he is a good man and will make her happy."

A faint smile played across Raoul's lips. "I will have to accept then that she is lost to me," he said sadly. "As you rightfully said, I got between Christine and a man she loved before, I should not do that again. I will try to do what he did and thus prove to her that I do indeed love her. I will let her go."

Meg smiled at him brightly. "Christine will be pleased to hear that," she said. Raoul looked at her. "Are you going to write to her?" he asked. "Or maybe see her? Don't tell her yet. I might want to write to her one day and tell her myself."

Meg nodded. "I will not tell her, but I do think she might be glad to hear that you finally set her free."

She then took leave of the Vicomte and continued her way to the dancing school. She had to hurry now, since because of her lengthy conversation with the nobleman she was late.

Xxxx

Raoul walked on for a while, mulling over what Meg had just told him. "I would like to know who he is," he mumbled. "I need to be certain that she will be happy with whoever she is getting involved with right now." And once he had made that decision he turned around and went to a nearby detective agency that he knew well.

"This is a matter of high confidentiality," he addressed the young detective. "I have reason to believe that my former fiancée, the famous soprano Christine Daaé is seeing somebody. She might be serious about this man. While I understand that our engagement is over, I still think of Mademoiselle Daaé as a fried, and I would therefore want to make sure, that the man she may want to marry, is a good man and worthy of her, capable of making her happy."

The young detective showed some understanding. "Of course, the women on stage are always surrounded by so many men," he said, "some with respectable intentions, some not so much. You want to know if the gentleman in question is planning to propose to her or might be more interested in making her his mistress?"

Raoul felt embarrassed. "Anything you can tell me about him," he finally mumbled. "Family background, profession, financial situation, education, whatever you can find out. From what I have heard he seems to be of the more respectable variety, but I want to make sure that everything is in order and that he can provide for her. Do you understand?"

The young detective nodded, then he began to ask a few questions. Where was this diva at the moment? Since Raoul could not answer that, he asked when and where Raoul had last seen her, or where she had been to his knowledge. Raoul vaguely remembered that he had read in the papers about some success or other Christine had celebrated somewhere in Europe, but he was not quite sure where she might be now.

The detective sighed. "This will be rather expensive," he explained. "I will have to check with my contacts all over Europe before I even know where the lady in question is right now and in which city I might therefore have to look for this suitor of hers."

Raoul assured him that money was not an issue. "As long as you can assure me that she will be well provided for with that gentleman," he said, "I will pay all your expenses. And if not, I want to know it as well. I caused her some pain a long time ago, I want to make sure now that she will be happy."


	25. Realizations

Thank you all so much for your reviews! Every single one is appreciated. The Raoul-subplot is turning out a little bit longer than I had thought, but the story is definitely reaching its end. I know that you all want more fluff, and there is a bit in this chapter. I promise there will be more before the end!

Oh, and nobody handed the rights to POTO to me in the meantime, so I still don't own anything or anybody.

Chapter 24 – Realizations

When Angela and her family arrived in Rome for the Easter weekend, Giovanni told them that he had invited the famous young diva Christine Daaé and her chaperone and surrogate mother, one Antoinette Giry, to lunch on Easter Sunday. Angela was not sure what to think of this revelation until she noticed the amused glint in her father's eyes and Erik's nervous fidgeting. She looked from one to the other, then smiled.

"You two are hiding something from me," she accused them. "There is a reason why you have invited her, am I right?" As Giovanni's grin broadened and Erik blushed, she did not need further proof for her suspicion. She hugged her adoptive brother. "'Oh Erik," she sighed happily, "is it true? Have you finally found the right woman?"

Erik beamed at her. "I hope you and Christine will get along," he said. "I love her more than anything in this world. But you are wrong. It was not me who found her. She found me." Then he told her that he had known his bride previously, but had thought she loved somebody else, how he had left her, how she had searched for him and finally found him.

Angela smiled. "She sounds like a very determined young lady, and if she makes my brother happy, I am sure I will like her a lot."

Xxxx

On Easter Sunday, Christine and Mme. Giry arrived at the Nardinis' home as planned. Christine was a bit nervous. She knew that Erik's sister and her family would be there and she was anxious about meeting them. She wanted so much to be accepted by them. She knew that she had won over Giovanni by now, and for Erik's sake she wanted to be on good terms with the rest of her new relatives as well.

She need not have worried. Angela welcomed her warmly and immediately took her aside, asking her a thousand questions in order to get to know the woman, who would become her sister-in-law. Christine answered as truthfully as possible and the longer the two ladies talked, the more Angela liked her brother's bride. There was absolutely no doubt in her heart that Christine genuinely loved Erik, face and all, and that despite the age difference these two would be very happy together.

While Angela was talking to Christine, Mme. Giry went over to Erik, who was looking for a chance to pry his fiancée away from his sister. "Let them talk for a while," she advised. "You want them to become friends, right?" When Erik nodded, she continued. "I am glad I finally get a chance to speak to you," she confessed, "for there is something I need to tell you."

Erik faced her, surprised. "What is it? Something about Christine?" he asked nervously. Mme. Giry shook her head. "No, something I did five years ago. That night of the fire at the Opera Populaire, have you never wondered how the Vicomte found the way to your home?"

Erik stared at her, shocked. "You?" he whispered. "You told him how to find me?" Mme. Giry looked down. She could not face Erik. "Yes," she admitted. "I did it for Christine. I did not want to betray you, but I saw no other way to free her. Oh, I knew you would not have harmed her," she told Erik, before he could interrupt her. "It's just, I thought she preferred him, and that you would not want to let her go."

Erik closed his eyes. "You feared I would keep her against her wishes," he stated flatly. Mme. Giry nodded. "Yes, and I was wrong on both accounts. Christine did not love the Vicomte and you set her free. If you two had lost each other forever it would have been my fault."

Erik sighed. "It seems we were all blind that day and we paid dearly for our faults. While it is possible that Christine and I might have resolved our problems then and there had the Vicomte not interfered, there is also a chance that we both might have always wondered about the what-ifs, whether she would have wanted to be with me if she had had a choice. Now we both know, and while it is true that Christine and I have both been rather miserable for the past five years, now we can be sure that we are together by choice."

Erik faced his foster sister. "Does Christine know about this?" he asked. "Have you told her as well?" Mme. Giry nodded. "Yes," she replied. "I told her five years ago, and she forgave me my interference. Will you do the same?"

Erik smiled. "If your actions had separated me and Christine forever I probably would not be able to forgive you," he admitted, "but since everything is going to be fine soon…"

Christine had finally answered all of Angela's questions and came looking for her fiancé. "I brought my score for the new production of La Donna del Lago," she told Erik. "Opening night is in a week, and I hope that my favorite teacher will review my role with me and make sure I will be as perfect as possible," she smiled at him.

Xxxx

After lunch, Erik and Christine settled down in front of Giovanni's piano and went through her new part together. Christine was well prepared and Erik barely needed to give her any advice. "It is amazing how well you have remembered everything I taught you," he commented.

Christine blushed. "I missed you so much," she confessed. "So I tried to recall every moment that we had passed together, every conversation we ever had. Somehow it felt that if I remembered your teachings and followed them, you would be with me, inspiring my voice…" She looked at Erik. "Remember? Your spirit and my voice in one combined. That's how it felt when I ran through the exercises that you had taught me."

Erik pulled her into his arms. "My dear Christine," he sighed. "I still cannot quite understand how you can love me so much, but your love is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me." His lips found hers and for a few moments the two forgot everything around them.

When they finally broke apart, Christine remembered that they had still to review the last scene with her final aria. Even though Erik was convinced that she knew this song just as well as the rest of the opera, he sat down in front of the piano again and Christine sang Elena's final solo.

"Ah! Chi sperar potea tanta felicità" (ah, who could have hoped for such happiness), she finished jubilantly. This was finally an opera with a happy ending – at least for Elena.

Once she had sung the last note, Christine turned to Erik. "I can understand why Elena is so happy," Christine said. "The king has just released her father and her lover from prison, even though they both conspired against him. But poor king Giacomo! He did it for her. He loves her, too. He sacrifices his own desires, his own chance at happiness so that she can be happy. He forgives his enemies and lets them go free and her with them." Christine faced Erik. "I could never have been as jubilant in front of you when you let me go five years ago, I knew I was breaking your heart, and Elena must know it too!"

Erik thought back to that terrible night, the way Christine had looked at him when he had released her and she returned the ring to him. He suddenly smiled. "You loved me even then," he murmured happily, "that's why you cared. I was a fool not to realize it. But that's why you could not rejoice when I sent you away. Elena, on the other hand, does not love the king, that's why his pain does not quite register with her."

Christine looked down. "I still hurt you that night," she whispered. "I may not have been as cruel as this Elena-character, but I hurt you nevertheless."

Erik went over to her, his hand reaching for her chin and gently lifting her head till she faced him again. "You have made it up to me a thousand times already," he said. "The pain is long forgotten, now that you love me."

A faint smile passed over Christine's features. "What have I done to deserve being loved like that?" she asked, before she wrapped her arms around Erik and rested her head against his chest. Erik put his arms around her as well and they stood like that for several minutes, holding each other, relishing each other's presence.

Xxxx

A week later, Christine enchanted Rome's music enthusiasts yet again with an incredibly moving, brilliant performance as Elena. This time, the whole Nardini-family was sitting in a box, and the young diva appeared at the opening night reception at the side of Erik Nardini. Roman society saw their suspicions confirmed. Something was definitely going on between the star soprano and Rome's leading mason-architect. He had even brought his sister and brother-in-law to meet the young lady, and they all seemed to get along great.

"There is an engagement in the air," the gossip-mongers whispered. "You'll see, she will soon become la signora Nardini."

Xxxx

The last week of April, Raoul de Chagny received a short note from the detective agency he had put in charge of finding out details about Christine's suitor. "If Monsieur le Vicomte will graciously agree to meet me at my office, I will be able to provide him with the requested information," the young detective had scribbled.

Raoul immediately ordered his carriage and went to the detective's office, where he was ushered into a private room. "I am glad, you came at once, Monsieur le Vicomte," the detective greeted him. "I am able to answer all your questions now."

After the two men had sat down at the large desk and the detective, Monsieur Devrioux, had filled two tumblers with cognac, the latter began his report.

"Mlle. Daaé is currently in Rome," he announced, "and has been there since before Christmas. She sang the title role in Verdi's Luisa Miller in the opening performance of the carnival season and continued with this role throughout the whole run of the production. She then went on a break, but sang the role of Elena in a new production of Rossini's la Donna del Lago just last week and is scheduled to sing that role for the next five weeks. What will happen then is everyone's guess. The society of Rome seems to expect that before the end of this production Erik Nardini will propose to her."

Raoul looked up. "Erik Nardini," he repeated the name of his latest rival. "What can you tell me about him? And do people think she will accept his proposal?"

M. Devrioux nodded. "Yes, the attraction seems to be mutual, in fact rumors about them started as early as the annual carnival mascherata, a masked ball, where the two danced together. Apparently they just somehow seemed to belong together. He had admired her from afar, seeing all or at least most of her performances, not quite daring to approach her."

Raoul frowned. "Why would he not have introduced himself earlier? Is he so shy or what?"

The detective smiled. "I need to tell you a bit about signor Nardini first. He is the son of the renowned masonry company Nardini & son. He is 40 years old and has by now more or less taken over the family business. The company is very much in demand, since they are not only known for their flawless execution, but also for the inspired, unusual designs provided by Erik." M. Devrioux took a sip of his cognac, before he added lightly, "Erik Nardini is considered a genius by many. He most definitely seems to be a talented architect."

Raoul's head swam. Something the detective had just said brought back a memory. Mme. Giry pleading with him, "he's a genius. He's an architect and designer. He's a composer and a magician. A genius, monsieur." A genius. A mason, who was known for his ingenious designs, an architect, who loved opera, a forty year old man who had seemed like he belonged to Christine when they had danced. Was he getting mad? Could all this be coincidence? Was Christine interested in this man because of these parallels, or...?

"He is Roman you said," he addressed the detective. "He is the son of a mason and the business has been around for years?"

M. Devrioux nodded. "Yes, Giovanni Nardini, the father, founded the business decades ago. He has always been successful, but the company only became Rome's leading masonry business when Erik joined it in summer of 1871."

Raoul felt like he was having a nightmare from which he could not awake. 1871! The man had joined the business only after that horrible night here in Paris. Could it possibly be?

"1871?" he croaked. "Why not sooner? What did he do before then?"

The young detective hesitated for a moment. "Giovanni Nardini adopted Erik the summer of 1871. Erik supposedly is a former apprentice of his, who about twenty years ago was involved with Nardini's younger daughter. Nardini had thought of the young man as his future son-in-law and heir then, but the girl died in a terrible accident."

Raoul gasped. "She died?" Blood along the way of this Erik Nardini, this man who had started to work in Rome only months after the Opera Populaire had burned down, and who was only the adopted son of the company founder. Could he doubt any longer? Could all this be coincidence?

M. Devrioux nodded. "They were all on the roof of the house, the girl leaned against the balustrade, which seems to have been in poor condition, anyway, the stonework crumbled and she fell backwards." He paused. "It was nobody's fault, but apparently, being masons, both father and boyfriend blamed themselves for not having noticed the condition of the balustrade before and repaired it before something like that could happen. What's worse, each of them feared the other one would blame him for her death. This caused an estrangement which was only resolved when Erik came back to Rome."

Raoul stared at the young detective. "He had been away from Rome?" he asked. "Where had he been? And why did he come back?"

M. Devrioux consulted his notes. "There are rumors that he was with Garibaldi, fought for the liberation of Italy, but I have no confirmation for those. He must however, have been injured at one point or another. There is something not quite right about his face, it's as if there were some artificial skin…"

Raoul paled. "His face?" he whispered. "There is something wrong with the man's face?" When M. Devrioux nodded in agreement, Raoul asked again. "Which side of his face? Right or left? Where was he injured?"

The detective checked his notes again, before saying, "right side. Why do you ask? Is this important?" Then he rummaged through his papers and showed Raoul a newspaper clipping that he had received in the mail this very morning. "Here," he said, "this picture was taken at last week's opening night reception. That's Nardini with the diva."

Raoul stared at the picture. Christine looked radiant. She was probably even prettier than she had been five years ago. As to the man at her side… Raoul had to fight for composure. He would have wanted to scream in anger, for there was no way he could be mistaken anymore. The man's face looked kind of normal, and Raoul had no idea how this was possible, just like he could not understand how that – thing – had survived the fire at the Opera Populaire, but there was no doubt that this Roman mason was indeed his former rival, the Opera Ghost.

"Christine," he sighed. How had she found that monster again? Had she always known that he was still alive, had they been seeing each other regularly over the past few years? Raoul's heart ached and he sensed a jealous fury rise within him. How could Christine fall under this man's spell again? Was she in danger? What should he do?

Meg Giry's face suddenly appeared before his mind's eye, telling him that he had gotten between Christine and the Phantom, asking him to leave Christine alone, now that she finally had a chance at happiness, to prove his love for Christine by setting her free and allowing her to start a new life. What had Meg said? Something about if he truly loved Christine he would respect her choice?

Raoul groaned. He had even promised Meg that he would not bother Christine any longer, but that was before he had known who Christine was getting involved with again. He could not stand by and watch her fall prey to this murderous madman, or could he? "You promised to let her go," he reminded himself. "A nobleman must keep his promises. But then, would you have made that promise if you had known?"

M. Devrioux silently watched his prominent customer for a while. He could not quite understand the Vicomte's agitation. "Is there anything else you want me to find out about this Erik Nardini?" he finally asked hesitantly.

Raoul was about to bark out a command, but then thought better of it and shook his head. "No," he said, "at least not right now. I have to give this some thought. I may require your services again to further investigate this affair, but I have to think about it first. I am not sure yet, how to proceed. I will let you know once I have reached a decision. Send your bill to my address," he added almost as an afterthought.

Raoul suddenly was in a hurry to leave the detective's office. He was torn between two equally disastrous choices. He could either break his promise to Meg or allow Christine to fall prey to this criminal again. The chivalrous hero within him wanted to rush in and rescue his childhood sweetheart from a very real danger, but the nobleman within him wanted to honor his word and keep his promise. He could only choose one course of action. What would be the right thing to do?


	26. Discussion

Thank you all for the reviews! I can understand that you are curious about what will come next. Well…. this chapter may be a hint, before we get back to more E/C-fluff in the next instalment.

And I still don't own anything or anybody, except maybe a character that is popping up in this chapter..

Chapter 25 – Discussion

Raoul de Chagny spent the rest of the afternoon deep in thought. He had not expected to suddenly learn that the Opera Ghost was still alive, and that Christine was with him again. He had no idea how the man could have escaped the fire and how he had managed to get himself adopted into a respectable Italian family. And there was that nagging thought that Christine might have known he was still alive and that that had been her main reason for breaking off their engagement.

"She probably knew," he thought. "Giry must have known and told her. The question is, would she have stayed with me if she had thought he was dead?" Part of him wanted to think that she might have, but deep down he suspected that she would not have married the man who had caused the downfall and death of her Angel of Music.

He pulled out the newspaper clipping the detective had given him and stared at the picture again. Christine was positively glowing. She looked so happy. As to the man… Raoul had to admit that he looked happy, too. Maybe a bit uncomfortable in the crowd, but the way he glanced down at Christine, his whole body language, exuded protectiveness and love directed at the young soprano.

Could Christine really be happy with that man or would his past crimes come to haunt them? Would she be safe with him? Should he really let her go and allow her to finally be with this – thing – that she had apparently always loved?

Raoul had not reached a decision yet, when his man servant entered. "Monsieur le Vicomte, you asked me to remind you that you had ordered the carriage for seven o'clock," Jacques informed him. Raoul cursed underneath his breath. The soirée at the house of the Chevalier de Mont-Tourmeil! He had completely forgotten that he had agreed to attend this event, but could not well send his regret at this late hour. He would have to go there at least for a while unless he wanted to insult the host and hostess.

Raoul quickly changed into evening attire and was ready to leave at seven as originally planned. When he arrived at the Chevalier's house, several acquaintances of his had already arrived and guests kept pouring in through the main entrance. It seemed as if "tout Paris" were here to celebrate the birthday of the Chevalier's daughter, who was officially being introduced into society.

Raoul greeted some of his friends, made some small talk and finally took a glass of the delicious strawberry wine cooler. Sipping on his drink he stood in a corner, observing the Parisian society and thinking about Christine's situation.

"Good evening, Monsieur le Vicomte," a warm, young voice addressed him, and he looked into the blue eyes of Marie-Claire de Merycourt. "Mademoiselle," he greeted her formally, noticing how lovely she looked in her pale blue dress which made her eyes really stand out.

"Why are you not joining the fun, Vicomte?" the young lady asked, ready to pull him into the crowd. Then she stopped and gave him a closer look. "You are not really in the mood," she said softly. "You are only here out of an obligation to the host and hostess. You are preoccupied." Raoul was surprised how well she could read him and her understanding touched him.

"Yes," he admitted. "There is something on my mind." The young baroness looked at him. "Do you want to talk about it?" she offered. "Sometimes that helps." Raoul smiled. Marie-Claire was such a sweet girl and he could see that she genuinely cared and wanted to help. Not for the first time he thought that it must be quite nice to have her around always, to be able to share one's thoughts and problems with her. "She does love me," he thought, "and I am about to start falling in love with her. If anybody has a right to know everything about the situation between me and Christine, it's her.

Raoul smiled at the young lady and nodded. "It's about Christine," he told her. Marie-Claire's heart ached at that name. She knew of course that the Vicomte had been engaged to a singer but that the latter had called off the engagement after the fire at the Opera Populaire. That had been five years ago, though, and the baroness had hoped that he would be over that affair by now.

"You cannot forget her," she stated flatly, her voice sounding sad and hopeless. Raoul nodded. "We were childhood sweethearts," he explained, "and I always felt like her knight in shining armor, always ready to defend her and save her from any danger."

Marie-Claire sighed. "And then you did it one time too often," she whispered, and blushed immediately when she realized that her words could be interpreted as an accusation. Raoul stared at her. "What do you mean?" he asked nervously.

Marie-Claire blushed even deeper. She was clearly embarrassed and did not know how to reply. She could not face the Vicomte and looked down at her feet, while playing nervously with her fan.

"I don't know," she stammered. "I did not mean to… I was only fourteen when it happened, but she… the soprano… she did not really want to be saved, or did she?" Now it was Raoul's turn to look down. "I guess not," he admitted. "How did you know?"

Marie-Claire played a bit more with her fan, before she replied. "I am a woman, too," she said, "and I am a romantic at heart. From what I have heard, the way she acted when she was on stage with him…" her voice trailed. She could understand only too well how it must have felt for Raoul to watch how the woman he loved obviously was attracted to another man. "He was in pretty much the same situation I am in now," she thought. "It must have been for him like me wanting him to love me when all he can think of is this Christine."

Raoul noticed the pain at the bottom of the baroness' beautiful blue eyes and suddenly he felt guilty. She suffered because of him, because he was still thinking of Christine, a woman who did not love him.

"You are right," he finally admitted. "Christine loved him, and I did not want to acknowledge that fact. I wanted to be the one for her, and I also wanted to keep her safe from that criminal." That was the truth, or at least part of it. Deep down Raoul knew he would also have interfered if Christine's suitor had been an honorable man.

Marie-Claire raised her head and looked Raoul directly in the eyes. "I wish you had not done it," she said sadly. "It must be so hard on you to know that you have destroyed your friend's chance at happiness, indirectly caused the death of the man she loved."

Raoul gasped. Never before had he considered that angle. And even though he now knew that the masked man had survived, he suddenly realized that his attempt to catch – or better kill – him must have deeply chagrined Christine. She had begged him not to use her as bait, she had not wanted to do this, even though at that time she had not been aware of her love for that madman yet, and he had disregarded her pleas.

"You would have wanted me not to interfere?" he asked the young baroness. "You think I should not have tried to bring the criminal to justice?"

Marie-Claire fidgeted. She opened and closed her fan a few times, before confronting him with yet another question. "Did you really think you were doing it for her?" she asked, "or were you not rather using his transgressions as an excuse to get rid of the rival?"

Raoul stared at her unbelievingly. "Transgressions? The man committed serious crimes!" he blurted out. The young baroness looked at him uneasily. She had wanted to make him see things from a different perspective, not make him angry.

"I know he ordered the managers around, making them do as he pleased and asking for a fee in return. You could probably call it extortion or blackmail or whatever, but," she continued, "the opera profited from his decisions, did it not?" Raoul had to admit that she had a point. "Of course it would have been better if he had applied for a position at the opera instead of resorting to his notes and mostly harmless little accidents.." Marie-Claire continued her defense of the Phantom.

Raoul snorted. "Harmless? He threw pieces of scenery at the performers!" he reminded her. Marie-Claire nodded. "I know," she admitted, "but he made sure la Carlotta would not really get hurt, did he not? I mean, if he had wanted to injure her…"

Raoul could not deny that she was right. " But Buquet," he argued. "There is no doubt he killed the stage hand. He was dangerous. He was a killer."

The young baroness took a deep breath. "I know," she stated. "But does that make him a killer? How many had he killed before? If I recall correctly he had been at the opera for years, and he never killed anybody before, or did he?"

Raoul sighed. "I don't know," he confessed. "I don't think he killed anybody before. Christine never mentioned anything like that and she had been there for ten years."

Marie-Claire had not known this detail before. "Ten years?" she asked. "Had she known the Opera Ghost for that entire time?"

Raoul nodded. "Yes," he said. "Her father died when she was seven, and that's when she came to the opera house. I think she was on a scholarship there for the ballet, and she and the Ghost somehow met. Her father had told her stories about an Angel of Music he would send to her once he'd be dead, and this man made use of this story and introduced himself as this angel. He taught her to sing," he admitted.

Marie-Claire beamed. "So he took her under his wings when she was lonely and needed someone after her father died?" she asked. "No wonder she was fond of him."

Raoul nodded. "I guess so," he said grumpily. "But it was still wrong to lie to her and to win her trust under false assumptions." The young baroness hesitated. "His face," she finally reminded Raoul. "For the same reasons he could not apply for a job at the opera the normal way, he did not want to tell her the truth until she knew him well enough and was mature enough to accept him despite his face. Just think about it. Do you believe he would have been able to help the seven year old orphan if she had known he was a disfigured grown-up man? And there is no doubt that she needed his help then, right?"

Raoul blushed. He knew that he had pretty much abandoned Christine when her father died. He had never written to her or visited her and over the years he had even forgotten that she was at the opera. He certainly had not been looking for her when he had accompanied Firmin and André to the rehearsal that first day.

"He cannot have been all that bad," Marie-Claire continued. "No really evil person would comfort an orphaned child. And I somewhat doubt that at that early point of their relationship he was already in love with her. But ten years are a long time, and their feelings for each other must have developed and grown."

Raoul sighed. For the first time he really understood how Christine could have fallen for this creature. He remembered their reunion in her dressing room after her debut in "Hannibal". She had barely talked about anything other than her Angel of Music. If he was honest he had to admit that he had known then that she was in love and that that angel was a mere mortal. She had apparently spent the evening with that man, and Raoul also had to admit that until "Il Muto" he had not really gotten anywhere with Christine. Then Buquet had been killed and she had suddenly been so frightened of the Phantom, that he had taken advantage of her agitated state of mind, proposed to her and made her his fiancé.

"Buquet," he reminded Marie-Claire. "Then he killed Buquet, and scared her. She knew then that he was dangerous and wanted nothing to do with him anymore."

Marie-Claire blushed. "He did kill that man, and that was certainly not the right thing to do. But there have been rumors that Buquet was a busy-body and quite nosy. Is it possible that he might have stalked the Opera Ghost and been a threat to him? For all we know it might have been self-defense." She looked at Raoul. "Just remember that if he had felt threatened, he could not have gone to the authorities like anybody else. He would have needed to protect himself."

Raoul felt bad. He had never thought about the problems such a terrible disfigurement might have caused for the man. No chance at a normal job, no chance at love and a family, no chance at help from authorities.

"But he got worse after that," he defended himself. "He interrupted the New Year's Eve Ball, he kept following Christine even though she was engaged to me by then…"

"What else should he have done?" Marie-Claire asked softly. "He loved her and he must have looked for a chance to talk to her, to clear up misunderstandings, win her back. He would not have truly loved her if he had given up on her."

Raoul nodded. "I guess so," he admitted. "Still, when he even followed her to her father's grave in the middle of the night…" He sighed. "He could have abducted her, forced her to marry him, raped her…"

Marie-Claire's deep blue eyes faced Raoul's, "But he didn't," she said. "He never harmed her in any way, yet you came up with a plan to catch him, kill him." She sighed. She loved Raoul deeply, but it bothered her that he had blood on his hands, for there was no doubt that Raoul's plan had been the cause of the disaster that followed: the death of Piangi, the falling chandelier, the fire, the many injuries that fire had caused, and ultimately the death of the man that his former fiancée had loved.

"I wanted to free Christine of him, to protect the opera of which I was a patron," Raoul weakly defended himself.

Marie-Claire looked at him, scrutinizing his features. "Really?" she asked. "Did you want to free her or did you have a feeling that as long as he lived she would not love another?"

Raoul fidgeted nervously. It was hard to ignore the accusation directed at him by those beautiful eyes. "Probably both," he finally admitted. "I guess I was no better than he, trying to get my rival out of the way… not that it did me any good," he suddenly laughed bitterly. "When I finally had her save with me and he was dead, she told me that she could not marry me after all. Then I knew that she would never be free of him."

The young baroness sighed. "Love sometimes makes us do terrible things," she whispered. Her left hand reached for Raoul's and grasped it comfortingly. "I understand why you did it," she continued. "Still, I would prefer you had not caused his death. Think of the poor woman. It must kill her to know that she was a pawn in the machinations that caused the death of the man she loved. And she was denied her chance at happiness with him."

Raoul stared at her. "You think I should have left them alone, watch her fall prey to that man and start a life with a criminal? Do you truly think she could have been happy with somebody who committed all these crimes?"

Marie-Claire blushed deeply. "She would probably have been just as happy with him as I would be with you if you loved me, despite the fact that your actions lead to the destruction of the opera that night, caused the deaths of Piangi and the Opera Ghost and had many people injured in the fire," she thought. To Raoul she said, "Love can forgive many things. True love accepts the other with all their assets, but also with all their flaws. And nobody is without a flaw." She made a short pause before adding meaningfully, "those without sin cast the first stone."

Raoul paled. He understood what she was getting at. His plan had ended badly and caused a lot more damage and pain than he had intended. That he had not wanted to injure these people and set the opera on fire did not change the fact that he was responsible for all that to a certain degree.

"So if he had survived," he asked cautiously, not wanting to tell Marie-Claire the whole truth just yet, "you think I should have let her go with him?"

Marie-Claire nodded enthusiastically. "Yes," she said, "if he were still alive I would go to her myself and tell her not to give up on her love. One never knows what happens next, one should never pass up on a chance at love and happiness. But then, I think, if he were still alive, she would know what to do herself." She smiled. "I know I am a hopeless romantic," she giggled, "but in my opinion, love is the most important feeling in the whole universe. Without love, our lives would be so empty and cold."

Raoul stared into the distance. Maybe Marie-Claire was right. Maybe the only thing that mattered after all, was love. Christine's love for that man, Marie-Claire's love for him. He had hurt both women, Christine by getting between her and her angel, Marie-Claire for ignoring her love for him for far too long. There was still time, though, he could still repair the situation and do right by both women.

"I must think about this," he finally said. "I know one thing, though, that your opinion means the world to me. If I manage to set things right, to make my peace with Christine, if she can forgive me, would you…?" He hesitated. "Would you then allow me to … court you?"

Marie-Claire blushed a deep shade of red and could not meet his eyes. "Give me a few days," Raoul said. "I might have to go abroad, but I will come back to you, as soon as I am… worthy of your love."


	27. Reconciliation

Thank you all for your lovely reviews and please forgive the wait. This has been a rather busy week so far. But the good news is, the weekend lies ahead, so the next update should be soon.

Anyway, you already know that I own nothing and nobody, but it can't hurt to remind you.

Chapter 26 – Reconciliation

Two weeks later, Raoul de Chagny arrived in Rome. As soon as he had settled down in one of the best hotels in town, he went to see the French Ambassador. The Marquis de Troyes-Pontillac was an old friend of the family and happy to see Raoul.

"Vicomte," he greeted the younger man, "what a pleasure to see you here in Rome! Are you here on business or on vacation? I hope you will stay for a few weeks!"

Raoul explained that he had come to Rome on a private mission and that he needed advice where and when he could best meet his childhood friend Christine Daaé. Raoul remembered just in time that the Marquis had been abroad on a diplomatic mission during his short engagement with Christine and therefore did not know about it. There was no need to bring this fact to his attention now.

The Marquis gasped. "You know the diva?" he asked. Then he remembered something. "You don't mean to tell me she is that little girl that you befriended one summer at the sea? The Swedish musician's daughter?" Raoul nodded. "Yes, that's her. I saw her last five years ago in Paris and we did not part on the best of terms then. I now want to apologize to her and set things right between us. That's why I do not want to go to her place. She might not want to see me. The same might be true at the Opera, if I tried to meet her at her dressing room. Her chaperone knows me as well and might not allow me to see her protégée. I therefore need to 'accidentally' run into her at a society event. The sooner, the better."

The Marquis smiled at him slyly. "Raoul, you are too late," he said. "If you think you can win the diva's heart, …" he shook his head. "Sorry, my boy, you won't stand a chance. Rome is waiting with bated breath for an engagement. That mason or is he an architect, anyway, Erik Nardini, he has been courting her for quite a while, and even though he is twice her age she seems totally smitten with him."

Raoul smiled. "I know," he said, "that's why I am here. To tell her that I approve of her choice and that I am happy for her." His heart once again ached at the thought that Christine was unattainable for him, then he thought of Marie-Claire. Lovely Marie-Claire, who cared for him so deeply, even though he was partly responsible for the fire at the Opera Populaire. How happy she would be when he would be able to tell her that he had not ruined Christine's life after all and that his childhood friend was reunited with her one, true love.

The Marquis looked at him sharply. "If you say so," he commented dryly, not quite convinced. "Anyway, you are in luck. There is a summer-ball tonight at the townhouse of the Conte Pernettoni, which she has agreed to attend. She will most certainly be there, especially since the Nardinis are also invited. Fortunately we ambassadors always get invitations to that kind of social events, I will therefore be able to take you there and introduce you to the host and his lovely wife."

Raoul thanked the Marquis and promised to be at his friend's residence that same evening in time for them to go to the summer-ball together.

Xxxx

Christine was giddy. Both, Mme. Giry and Giovanni had agreed that the courtship had been going on for long enough and that therefore she and Erik could finally make their engagement official. They had decided to do so at tonight's summer-ball. Erik would ask Christine to dance with him and after the dance he would lead her into the lovely Pernettoni garden, where they would find a chance to kiss. Then they would return to the ball room and Erik would lead her to Giovanni, officially presenting her to his father as his bride and Giovanni would hug them and wish them luck and ask the host to make an announcement that his son and the young diva were engaged.

Since they had already waited so long, the wedding would follow only a few weeks later, probably at the end of June. Erik would be able to take a short vacation then, since the summer heat usually made it hard to get any work done at a construction site and what little work still could be undertaken, Giovanni would be able to handle, especially since his grandson Piero was scheduled to start working in the family business around that time. That way Erik would be able to take Christine on a short honeymoon.

Christine sighed happily. Only a few more weeks, then she and Erik would finally be together, joined in holy matrimony. Giovanni's house was large enough that they could live with him, but Erik was also planning to build them a nice little summer house in the countryside, where they could spend the hottest time of the year. He had promised Christine that he would make sure there was a large garden around the house and Christine knew that the largest room would be a music room with a grand piano. Their love had sprung from their shared interest in music, and music would always be with them.

Erik had indicated that he would not mind if Christine continued her singing career once they would be married. Christine was not too sure about that, though. Rehearsals could be grueling and definitely time-consuming, but if she was honest, all she wanted to do from now on was to be a wife. To take care of their little household, make sure Erik had everything he needed, cook him his favorite meals, and later, maybe…. Christine blushed. Later there might be children. No, she probably would not have time to perform too often. Maybe an occasional concert, or one production per year. She definitely did not want to give up her profession completely, but it would have to take a back seat to her new duties as Erik's wife.

Tonight would be the first step towards her new life. Tonight they would finally end the charade and proclaim their engagement. Before the ball would be over, she would officially be Erik's bride.

Xxxxx

Raoul and his friend, the Ambassador, arrived rather early at the Conte Pernettoni's house. The Marquis introduced Raoul to the Conte and his wife, explaining that he was a visiting French nobleman and longtime friend, which got Raoul a warm welcome.

The two friends took up position close to the entrance, so that they could easily observe the arriving guests. Raoul did not want to be immediately seen and recognized by either Erik, Christine or Mme. Giry, since he feared that seeing him unexpectedly might scare these three. He therefore stood with his back to the door, while the Marquis was facing it and therefore could easily see who was arriving.

After a while, he whispered to Raoul, "here they are! The Nardinis, father and son, they are right now greeting the hosts. When they pass by, I will introduce you." Raoul was nervous. To think that the man who had almost killed him five years ago was in the same room, made him uncomfortable. He also briefly considered the fact that Erik was obviously well liked and respected here, while he himself was a stranger. Should it come to hostilities between them again, Raoul would certainly be at a disadvantage – again. "I need to convince him that I have accepted that Christine belongs with him," he thought, "and that I mean it when I tell him I am sorry." He bit his lip. Would he be able to face his former rival without his hatred blinding him again? What about the Opera Ghost? Would he be able to remain calm?

Raoul was still worrying, when the Marquis called out to the two men that were just then passing by. "Cari signori," (dear Sirs) the Ambassador said, "what a pleasure seeing both of you. I would like to introduce you to a friend of mine, who is here on vacation and has already heard a lot about Rome's leading masonry business."

Giovanni and Erik approached the Marquis. Raoul waited till they were close enough to shake hands, then he turned to face the two men. Erik's left hand formed a fist and his jaw tightened. He recognized the Vicomte even before the Marquis said, "this is my good friend Raoul de Chagny."

Now Giovanni gasped as well. He glanced nervously at Erik, who tried to remain as calm as possible. Erik had no idea what had brought the Vicomte to Rome. "What does he want here?" he thought. "Did he know I am here? Did he come to arrest me? Is he after Christine again? I should have known that something terrible would happen, that there was no way I could finally find happiness. I must have been condemned to sorrow and misery the moment I was born."

He knew that there was no way the Vicomte would not recognize him. Whether or not anybody would believe the stranger's accusations was a different question, though. Erik took a deep breath. If the Vicomte had come to arrest him, he would deny knowing the man, then it would be his word against the Vicomte's, and maybe, just maybe the society of Rome would believe Giovanni Nardini's son and not a visiting foreign nobleman. A lot would depend o the way he handled the situation, though.

Erik looked at Giovanni, trying to convey to him that he was able to deal with the problem, to inspire hope and confidence in his father, then he turned to Raoul, bowed and said non-committally, "I am pleased to meet you, Vicomte."

Raoul smiled. He had seen Erik's jaw tighten when the latter had recognized him, and it was hard to overlook the older Nardini's nervousness. The old mason was quite obviously worried that some harm might come to his adopted son. Was it possible that he genuinely loved that man? Raoul suddenly remembered Marie-Claire's words. "He can't have been all bad," she had said, and she had based that conviction on the fact that the disfigured freak had cared for a seven-year old orphan.

"I need to reassure them," Raoul thought. "The father is scared, and the Ghost himself… the way he just glanced at the old man, I am almost certain he is at least as concerned how this confrontation will affect this "father" of his, than what my presence might mean for him."

He looked Erik in the eye. "I do not think you are really pleased to see me," he said lightly. "But I assure you, you need not worry." Raoul turned towards Giovanni. "Sir, I can see that you love your son," he continued. "I assure you, I am not here to harm him in any way."

Erik inhaled sharply. What kind of game was the Vicomte playing? Was he trying to make him relax before he went in for the kill?

Raoul looked back at Erik. Somehow seeing the Opera Ghost's discomfort gave him the courage to continue. "He is only human, too," he thought. "He is scared, but proud and brave enough not to let it get the better of him. But it will be hard to convince him I do not constitute a danger to him anymore."

Raoul winked at the Marquis to tell him that his presence was not needed anymore. The Ambassador caught on immediately and excused himself under the pretense of having spotted friends of his in the crowd that he wanted to talk to.

"I know it is hard to believe," Raoul said candidly once the Marquis was out of earshot, "but I actually came to apologize to you and Christine. No, let me finish," he prevented Erik from commenting. "I knew right from the start that Christine was in love. I knew it, when she herself had not figured it out yet. But I wanted her for myself. I was used to getting everything I wanted. I could never take a "no" for an answer, and the fact that I might actually have to fight for her, was just an additional motivation for pursuing her. It was a challenge." For the first time ever Raoul admitted to himself that his decision to court Christine had not entirely been out of love, but also, because she had been unreachable.

"I would not have stood a chance with her," he confessed, "if not…" He paused, before he whispered, "Buquet. She was scared after that and furious at you. She felt betrayed. She had trusted you. And I…" he hesitated again. "I took advantage of her state of mind and proposed. In her confusion she accepted, but her heart… I think I always knew that her heart was yours. That's why…" Raoul looked down. He knew that his actions had gravely hurt not only Christine, but also the man standing in front of him, the man Christine loved. "Why I plotted to kill you," he finally mumbled. "I hoped she would forget you if you were dead."

Erik stared at him, trying to decide, whether or not the Vicomte was telling the truth or if this was a new, elaborate trap. "And what has made you change your mind, if I may ask?" Erik's voice sounded like a sharp, cutting blade.

Raoul fidgeted. "You do not know her," he finally explained. "A young baroness. She opened my eyes. She made me see the truth, namely that I was acting pretty much the same way as you back then, that I was no better than you, trying to kill my rival, using my childhood friend as a pawn. She pointed out to me that you and I share responsibility for what happened that night: the fire, the destruction, the many injuries. And she told me that I caused Christine's unhappiness. For her sake I need Christine's forgiveness – and yours. If I can tell her, that I made peace with the two of you and have righted the wrongs as well as I could, she may want to have me." He smiled dreamily thinking of Marie-Claire's blue eyes radiant with joy at his redemption.

"Good evening," a bright, clear voice interrupted Raoul. They had been so caught up in their conversation that they had not noticed Christine approaching, Mme. Giry in tow. Christine smiled at Erik and Giovanni, then turned to greet the gentleman the two had been talking to and the smile died on her face.

"Raoul…?" Christine's voice was barely more than a whisper. "What are you… how come….?" She was scared, worried about Erik's safety and nervously looking from one man to the other. Mme. Giry reacted pretty much the same way.

Raoul grinned at the diva. "Christine," he smiled, "is that all the enthusiasm you can muster when you meet an old friend? Or am I to assume that you are speechless with joy?"

Christine shook her head. "I.. it's just.." she tried to explain.

Raoul put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around so that she was facing Erik. "That's why I am here," he said. "To tell you that I approve of your choice. To make peace with you and to ask you to forgive me that five years ago I tried to get between the two of you."

Christine was just as incredulous as Erik. "Why?" was all she could say.

"Because my little baroness might reject me, if I do not make my peace with you," he confessed. "She made me realize that I was in no way better than your Erik, whom I tried to hunt down. That my actions caused you a lot of harm and heart-break, and, since she believes that the Opera Ghost is dead, that I have taken away your chance at happiness."

Christine knew Raoul well enough to realize that he meant what he was saying. "You will not harm Erik?" she asked anxiously, "you will leave us in peace?"

Raoul nodded. "Yes. The Opera Ghost died that night in the fire at the Opera. The man you will be marrying," he glanced at Erik. "At least I hope that you will finally marry her," he said, before continuing, "that is a totally different person, the son of a Roman citizen, whom you met while you were performing here. That's what I will tell everybody who asks me. Your secret will be safe with me." He hesitated for a moment. "Except for Marie-Claire," he added. "If the two of you do not object, I would like to tell her the truth. My little baroness thinks that I have your blood on my hands," he told Erik, "because my plan caused you to drop the chandelier for a diversion so that you could escape the gendarmes, and the chandelier obviously started the fire. The fire which killed the Phantom."

With the heightened sensitivity of a woman in love Christine noticed the warmth in Raoul's voice when he talked about this baroness. "Who is she?" she asked, "that baroness. Do I know her?"

Raoul shook his head. "I don't think so," he stated. "She was only fourteen, when…" He smiled at Christine. "I am sure you would get along, though," he said. "If the two of you come to Paris, I will introduce you." He saw that Christine glanced at Erik.

"Don't worry," Raoul said. "If you want to come home, may it be for a visit, or to go to your father's grave, you can. Both of you. There are no warrants for Erik Nardini."

Christine smiled. Her hand reached for Erik's and she looked at him lovingly. "Angel," she whispered, "the past is truly behind us."

Erik nodded. "I am glad for your sake, and my father's." He smiled at Giovanni. "Now you will not have to worry about my safety any longer."

Erik and Christine looked at each other, and suddenly they could not help it, they forgot about the ball guests around them, fell into each other's arms and their lips found each other. A few bystanders saw it first, they alerted the group next to them, and within a few moments the whole ball room was whispering that Nardini was kissing the diva. When the two finally broke apart, the ball guests started clapping. Christine blushed. She only now realized that they had been kissing in front of a rather large audience. Erik was just as shocked, but composed himself quickly. "Christine has agreed to become my wife!" he announced to roaring applause.


	28. Happiness

There it is, the last chapter, an epilogue of sorts. Thank you all for reading this story, for leaving me wonderful reviews, for favoriting this one, and thank you to my new readers for also checking out my previous stories. Your support means the world to me! I hope you will all check out my new story as well. It is called "Love That You'll Regret" and the first installments are already up.

Anyway, I still don't own anything or anybody. What else is new?

Chapter 27 – Happiness

Nobody danced much that night at the Conte Pernettoni's summer ball. Everybody was far too excited about that long-awaited engagement between the architect and the diva. Everybody wanted to congratulate the young couple and to see for themselves how much in love they were.

The next day, telegrams went out to both, Meg and Angela, telling them the news. Ten days later, Giovanni hosted a reception at his house to celebrate his son's engagement. All their friends and business partners were there.

Angela and her family had come to Rome for this occasion. Her children learned only now that the young diva that they had met at their grandfather's house last Easter was to become zio Erik's wife and thus their new aunt. Christine with her twenty-two years of age was only a few years older than her new nephews. The boys therefore had secret crushes on her and were very impressed with their uncle's bride. They both agreed, though, that it was only natural, that their uncle would marry the prettiest, nicest and most talented girl. "Zio Erik has found the right woman, she is just as special as he is," they said to each other. And their younger sister Assunta was totally in awe with her new aunt and told everybody that once she'd be grown up she'd want to become a famous singer too and marry a gentleman as nice as her uncle.

Meg had arrived in Rome the day before the reception. She was almost certain that she would want to stay in Rome with her mother and Christine. She was very curious about Erik, too. She had never met him in person, had only heard the rumors about the Opera Ghost and of course she had been there the night of "Don Juan Triumphant" when Christine had unmasked him in front of the audience. She remembered him as revoltingly ugly and had never quite understood how Christine could love him, especially since he had committed criminal acts as well, but when she was finally officially introduced, and could see for herself how much in love he was with Christine, she knew that her friend had made the right decision.

The engagement party was a wonderful event in more ways than one. Christine introduced Meg to the manager of the Opera, who immediately promised to let Meg audition for a position in his Corps de Ballet. Meg also met Mattia Caprotti, the son of Giovanni's competitor and good friend Luigi. The Caprottis were the company Erik and Giovanni always recommended when they were too busy to take on any new assignments.

Angela and Mme. Giry had a long conversation at that party as well. They were almost the same age and got along very well. By the end of the evening they had become great friends, each of them thinking of the other one as "Erik's other sister".

Raoul had not stayed in Rome for this reception, he had been in a hurry to return home and tell his baroness that he had made his peace with Christine. He promised to be back for the wedding, though. "Who else would give you away?" he had asked Christine with a smile.

Xxxx

Four weeks later, the church of Sant'Andrea della Valle was more crowded than it normally was even at Easter or Christmas. Every single seat was occupied and people were standing in the back to watch the wedding between Erik Nardini and the young diva.

Everybody agreed that the bride looked fabulous in her simple white dress, and all were deeply touched by the obvious love between the bride and groom. Barely one noticed the brief look of pain in the eyes of the French nobleman who gave the bride away. It had only been a second, then Raoul looked over to Marie-Claire de Merycourt, who was one of the two bridesmaids, Meg being the other one.

One last time Raoul's heart ached at the loss of Christine, then he looked over at his little baroness, whose love was slowly healing the wound of his heart.

Christine and Erik looked at each other while saying their vows. They did not need to hear the priest proclaim them husband and wife till death would part them. They already knew that they belonged together for all eternity. Their hands reached for each other, their fingers entwining, when the priest told Erik to kiss the bride. Their eyes met and slowly, reverently, Erik kissed Christine, who was now finally his wife.

Xxxx

Towards the end of the wedding reception the unmarried girls among the guests lined up and Christine threw her bridal bouquet. Two hands reached up simultaneously and the two bridesmaids held on to the flowers together. Both blushed deeply.

Roman gossip mongers nodded. They had observed that the gentleman who had given the bride away had looked gooey-eyed at one of the bridesmaids, and the other one, the new ballerina at the Opera… well, it was obvious that after Nardini, Caprotti, too, would be marrying an opera-girl.

Xxxx

When the last guest had finally left, Erik and Christine were alone at last. They had decided to spend their first night as a married couple at home and leave for Tuscany together the next morning on a short honeymoon.

The moment the door of their bedroom had closed behind them, they fell into each other's arms and their lips found each other. Their tongues met, and for a moment they just savored the feeling that they finally could be together. Then, slowly, hands and lips started exploring, and one by one items of clothing got discarded, the first thing to go being Erik's mask.

Skin met skin and desire built in both of them, until their bodies finally joined, celebrating their love. Afterwards they just held each other and smiled. "Did I hurt you?" Erik asked his wife. He had noticed the brief moment of pain when he had penetrated Christine's virginal body. Christine shook her head. "Not really, my Angel," she said. "It was more an adjustment to something new. But what we just did…" she smiled at him. "It was wonderful." Christine gently caressed Erik's deformed cheek, before their lips joined yet again.

Xxxx

Roughly nine months later, Giovanni's home was once again buzzing with activity. Christine was about to give birth to her first child. Erik had been shocked when he had learned about her pregnancy, fearing that the baby might inherit his deformity, but Christine had convinced him that even if that were the case it would not matter. Erik was loved despite his face, not just by her, but also by his adoptive family and his surrogate sister Mme. Giry, and there was no reason to think that the baby would be loved any less in case he or she looked like their father. Erik had finally accepted this, but now that Christine was starting to have contractions he was utterly nervous again. The baby's face was the least of his concerns at the moment. He just hoped that everything would go well and Christine get through it all unharmed, and hopefully the baby as well.

Mme. Giry had come immediately when she learned that the baby was about to arrive, followed shortly by the midwife. Erik was sitting at Christine's bedside, holding her hand and whispering words of love to her, trying to help her through this ordeal as best he could. The midwife would have wanted to get him out of the room. Helping a child into the world was hard work and the last thing she needed was a husband who fainted halfway through the procedure. Christine held Erik's hand in a vice-like grip, though, and begged that he could stay. She needed him with her in order to be strong, she told the midwife.

The latter shrugged. She just hoped the father-to-be would not be in the way. Erik surprised her in a positive way, though. His presence had a calming influence on the young woman, it seemed almost as if by holding her hand he absorbed some of her pain and thus made the contractions easier on her.

"Now push," the midwife told Christine. "I can see the baby's head. It's almost there." Christine smiled at Erik, then pushed with all her might. "Again," the midwife told her, and while the next contraction tore through her body, Christine pushed once again. When she sank exhausted into the pillows, she heard her baby's first cries. She turned her head slightly, to face Erik and whispered happily, "we have a child."

Mme. Giry, who had helped the midwife, cleaned up the baby while the midwife took care of the afterbirth and cleaned up Christine. Then Mme. Giry placed the tiny bundle into Christine's arms. "You have a beautiful son," she said.

Erik and Christine both stared in wonder at the wrinkled red head of their son, the child that their love had created. It was too soon to tell who he resembled, but Christine was fairly convinced that he had Erik's eyes and her father's chin. "He is perfect," she sighed happily. "Oh Erik, we have the most adorable little baby!"

Erik, too, was convinced that theirs was the cutest little infant he had ever seen. After a while Christine remembered Giovanni. "Where is our father?" she asked. "Angel, please call him in so that he can meet his new grandson!"

Erik nodded and went to the living room where Giovanni was anxiously awaiting news. The moment Erik entered, Giovanni knew that everything had gone well. Erik looked so happy in his fatherly pride. "How is Christine?" Giovanni asked, when Erik hugged him. "She is fine, padre," Erik sighed relieved. "The midwife thinks she will be up in a few days. And our little son is adorable. Christine is waiting for you, come and meet your grandson!"

Together father and son returned to the bedroom, where they found Christine with her infant son. "Padre," she said to Giovanni, "look at our little treasure. Isn't he the cutest?"

Giovanni approached the bed and smiled at his latest grandchild. "He is amazing," he agreed. "Have the two of you thought about a name yet?"

Erik and Christine looked at each other, then Christine faced her father-in-law and said, "we have been thinking of calling him Giovanni."


End file.
